How green the grass looks on the other side. Why not trade in that shabby, plaster Mary, a sacerdotal Barbie's pallid bromide, for a con artist Raven Woman or swap her petitioning prayers to her menfolk for subtle growls of a Wolf Daughter's lore? Suppose we barter her glass rosary beads for Kali's swinging opera length of skull pearls? Could we switch the conveyor of God's seed for a Dakini changeling, cirrus-hopper, star-strider of an anarchy of shapes? And, would this alter any of the altars in the world? Or are these stock goddesses pulled from a spiritual steno-pool, bare breasted or in modest bodices, just takers of dictation? In which case perhaps we should retread that Virgin, send her for weight training, teach her how to ace at poker, raise her B.C. consciousness, drill her in assertiveness until she's ready to go back to God's caress to get it right this time and have a girl. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEMANTICS OF FLOWERS ON MEMORIAL DAY by BOB HICOK THE MOTHER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON UTOPIA by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: BARRETT BAYS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |