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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 climbed to her feet, expanding on the limitless plane of her voice. “A priest got lost in a forest. He found an arbor with a young pear in the middle covered in blossom. A huge bear, ugly and rank, shook the tree till the blossoms fell. The bear ate all the flowers, turned his tail, and sprayed the priest with watery shit.

“The priest was disgusted and very depressed because he could see the shit was symbolic. He met a handsome old man who asked the priest why he was sad. The priest repeated the matter: rank beast devours blossoms and sprays them horribly out its ass.

“The old man explained: You act without faith. You sit over your beer, give yourself up to your body . . .”

“I don’t believe there’s a crumb of sense in it,” the doctor stated.

The Abbot thought, I would give twenty pounds to have her tears. He said hopelessly, “That’s a good story.”

Quick stages of demolition and reconstruction replaced one another on the doctor’s face. He said, “Good story,” submissive.

Margery nodded with pleasure. “If anyone dislikes it, watch him—he’s guilty.”

“Who will escort this woman to the Bishop of Lincoln?” A young man jumped up; he had a deer’s passionate eyes, edible flesh, and furry rump. He was still preoccupied by the growth of his cock during puberty. The Abbot said, “Too young.”

Thomas, a somber man of the court, asked, “What will you give me?” His eyes were set so close in his narrow face they made you dizzy. The Abbot offered five shillings and Thomas demanded a noble.

“Here are five shillings. Escort her quickly out of this area.”

38

Philip, Bishop of Lincoln, had presided over Margery’s vow of chastity. First she went to Leicester Abbey and into the church. A peacock angel opened a manderla in the bulging air in which Jesus sat naked on his three-legged stool. She was used to swallowing him whole. Anticipation elongated her body and arched her forehead. Jesus walked towards her; his milky skin was so fine his veins were visible. Her knees buckled, she held onto a pillar and felt as though she were running. The unruly outside was sucked into her body with her breath. He was grinding every grain of separate existence to dust. A thick swarm buzzed louder towards a longed-for and intolerable crescendo; the excitement was also a light sense of wellbeing that tapered her fingers and lifted her lips and nipples. She was moved but also disturbed by his torso, a face without features. Jesus lowered his lids and tipped his head back, basking and effeminate. Two tiny points of hair on his chin were his beard. She questioned her attraction and answered yes, it was strong.