Pilgrimage to the bottom of the worbyvampiredust©
She had come to Mexico as a pilgrim,
playing the role of Mary Magdalene
as she drove past tequila coloured
sunsets and cactus hung like crosses
on the landscape. She kept on seeing
visions of the Messiah in her sunglasses,
smelling of gasoline and burning ash.
But he never believed her promises
and disappeared into the soil.
There are no saints here, she had failed
to realise, staring at the Virgin Mary
around her neck. Salvation here comes
from hollow donkeys and lottery tickets.
Men long to sip words squeezed from bones
of local gods hanging in the town square
but they will never be taken down and buried.
- Add a