The Second Coming of Mary

THE SECOND COMING OF MARY

You are lost, no –
You are softening the tender stretch of my neck.

I’m able to breath quick, running circles around my father.
His grief unspeakable.

He hangs his head,
dying flower of Indiana.

The body is gone.

But the shape of gravity is known. We carry her,
like a folded jacket of spirit, laying in our arms.

I ask John the Baptist, what is the sound of coming.
& he replies, breaking air.

The angel Gabriel, coasting down on thunder,
making lightning for first time in the world.

Her name, Mary, hangs,
dead flower of Indiana.

My father & I don’t say her name.
We let the air do it, breaking,
lightning upon our heads.

 


 

About the author

Travis Tate

Travis Tate is a queer, black playwright, poet and performer from Austin, Texas. Their poetry has appeared in Borderlands:Texas Poetry Review, Underblong, Mr. Ma’am, and upcoming in the Shade Journal and apt. They are a finalist for the Cosmonauts Avenue 2018 Poetry Prize.Their one-person drag show, It’s a Travesty! One Night with Jazzie Mercado! was presented at the Cohen New Works Festival (2017) and at Salvage Vanguard Theatre’s Three-Headed Fest in November 2017. Their play MotherWitch was featured as a part of the 2018 UTNT (UT New Theatre).