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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

Even in her own visions the gods ignored Margery while she found lodging for them every night and begged for white clothes for Jesus. The humming in her ear grew deep, an owl’s oo-heu, and brighter, a bunting’s high-pitched jangle. She leaned over the fire, stirring milk and barley as Mary’s brittle fingers drifted through loose galaxies above the bubbling cauldron. Mary’s nails were cracked and dirty. Her blue mantle of Flanders cloth hugged her shoulders, fell in large bowl shapes to her waist, then straight downwards. She lifted the corner elegantly; the weighty abundance of folds expressed feminine eternity while her body inside remained untouched.

•

Jesus didn’t want his afternoon nap. The sun beat through the shades. A quiver of pleasure and then the current running through his little cock entertained him. The air was so hot his piss didn’t cool off. He filled his diaper and painted a mural with shit to surprise his mother. Mary leaned close to the wall and sniffed—then threw her head back and sputtered with laughter.

An angel hurtled out of the blue. It glided over the ground towards the family, its silver wings slightly canted and sharp as scissors. “Look out,” Joseph squawked, “in two seconds they’ll cut your head off.” Their clothes caught the wind and puffed out as the angel skidded to a halt. Its lips were parted and it breathed through its mouth from exertion.

The angel cried, “Mary and Joseph, go to Egypt.” The ground was bare and the road hard and dry; grass sprouted from clefts in the rocks. Mary stopped to rest, dangling Jesus upside down from her lap. He watched a trader lead a string of ostriches that were bridled and saddled. His heart thudded in his ears. There was a fragrance in the air like sage, hot and dry, that would always turn him upside down again. Margery wrung her hands and wept slowly for hours at a time.

9

Jesus, when I feel the difference between my stale life and the ecstasy of life with you, I revive the desolation I felt before meeting you in order to coax your appearance. I begin crying so intently my voice sounds hoarse and strange. My face is rigid, my arms and legs are weak, and civilization grows tender and sensitive to pain. There is a bleating in my chest, a sixth sense, the continuous awareness of your body. I enlarge myself by equating your tenderness towards me with the pain of your death. My jaws lock open and tears and mucus spool off my face.