A Christmas poem
I don’t want to be Mary.
She just sits in the straw holding that dumb doll
while Joseph stares at her and never says anything.
I want to be Gabriel.
I want to strut some wings, ruffle some feathers.
I want the scene where I can say, “Zap! You’re pregnant!”
and Mary says, “No way!”
and I say, “Honey, it’s a God thing.”
Then I’ll zoom back to God
and tell him, “Go gentle on Joseph.”