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Back Margery Kempe Save as PDF
Chapters (69)
  1. Cover
  2. Biographical Notes
  3. Title Page
  4. INTRODUCTION
  5. MARGERY KEMPE
  6. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  7. Dedication
  8. Front
  9. PART ONE
  10. 1
  11. 2
  12. 3
  13. 4
  14. 5
  15. 6
  16. 7
  17. 8
  18. 9
  19. 10
  20. 11
  21. 12
  22. 13
  23. 14
  24. 15
  25. 16
  26. PART TWO
  27. 17
  28. 18
  29. 19
  30. 20
  31. 21
  32. 22
  33. 23
  34. 24
  35. 25
  36. 26
  37. 27
  38. 28
  39. 29
  40. 30
  41. 31
  42. PART THREE
  43. 32
  44. 33
  45. 34
  46. 35
  47. 36
  48. 37
  49. 38
  50. 39
  51. 40
  52. 41
  53. 42
  54. 43
  55. 44
  56. 45
  57. 46
  58. PART FOUR
  59. 47
  60. 48
  61. 49
  62. 50
  63. 51
  64. 52
  65. 53
  66. 54
  67. 55
  68. 56
  69. MY MARGERY, MARGERY’S BOB

Margery found them lodgings in Bethlehem. Mary and Joseph squatted naked, combing each other for nits, cracking lice between fingernails. Physical life was new to the gods; deity had no shame. The tips of Mary’s nipples were long and Joseph’s cock was a length of rotten rope below a pad of gray curls. Being human was a costume party—dressing up in flesh and blood. All they brought was hard bread and a pot of stale beer so Margery made a soup called beer-bread.

8

John caressed Margery on April 26, 1413. By then Margery had fourteen children and that’s as much as she tells us about them. It was a fresh watery afternoon. It moved John that her cunt was a soft-lipped entrance at the very bottom of her torso, just where he desired it to be. He lay his head on her chest. When he touched her clit it replied with heartbeats. He gained color and reality. He always forgot and then recognized the smell of apricots in the sweat between her breasts; he tended her nipples—in exciting them he made himself writhe and moan.

Margery knew what kind of sex John wanted—recognition, perfection of the moment—because she sought it herself with Jesus. Sadly she turned from John by closing her eyes, refusing to honor their arousal or make it symbolic. Through her pleasure she screamed “Jesus, help me!” and John’s erection melted. John became fixed, two dimensional. He blew and fluttered, splayed open, tearing into ragged pieces with a tender hapless expression. What a mess, Margery said to herself.

•

At the market in Bethlehem, the vegetable woman threw carrots, celery, parsley, and a head of garlic into the meagerest purchase. Margery raised her hands for more and became that gesture. The odd shape of her packages forced her to hurry.

She added cold to the tub and sprinkled a few drops on her wrist. Jesus splashed and clapped, soaking Margery while she kissed a tiny to-be-wounded foot. “I will not bind you too tight—I know your painful death.” The prick of the milk on Margery’s nipple, her bliss, the sore and swollen feeling as milk engorged each breast, her sadness preceding the arrival of the little teeth. Tears flowed as though she could never die.

Joseph complained, “Be still, daughter.” Margery smoothed their sheets and raised her cracked bowl to strangers.