by Maggie Blake Bailey
Hard to be Mary,
heart set on a visit
to the only other woman
with swollen ankles.
A chance to say:
No one ever touched me.
An afternoon spent
almost asleep—
in sunlight like honey,
in a body made of bees.
The word they give her
is mediatrix.
As if I would pray
to the tallest tree
and not the lightning.
As if her body hadn’t
done all the work:
immaculate construction
of hive.
MAGGIE BLAKE BAILEY has poems published or forthcoming in The San Pedro River Review, Tar River, Tinderbox, and elsewhere. Her chapbook, Bury the Lede, is available from Finishing Line Press and at Amazon.com. She has been nominated for The Pushcart and also for The Best of the Net. For more work, please visit www.maggieblakebailey.com.
Photo: “Honey” by Glen Scott
Psaltery & Lyre 
Beautiful line: “As if I would pray / to the tallest tree / and not the lightning.”
Thank you, Gershon!