Sometimes I want to steal the baby Jesus
from the crèche
and darken his skin.
I want to kneel next to Mary
and ask her if she needs to lie down.
what she is using to catch the blood
that flows between her legs.
She has, after all, just given
I want Her to know
Sometimes I want to pick them up—
the Wise Men, Joseph, the lambs—
and kiss them back to life.
I want them here, now, to bless
and weep with us.
I want His flesh, newborn in my arms,
if I take good care of Him
I want Her flesh, her shaky legs moving
next to me as we walk
feet pushing into resistant sand.
Each step reminding us
that spirit and body