2 January 2015

Miss Ann, when Mary Say She Making Baby

You? Making a baby? Mary child,
don’t make joke! It don't have no way
that you could manage that! You don't leave

out this house if you don't go with me –
least not since you betrothed.
I make sure you stay far

from any man saving for your Pa, and of course
your intended, Joseph. Beg you, girl,
careful, careful with what you saying.

People here take these things
and make life and death rule that Jah self
would not lay down for one living soul!

Give them a quarter chance
and them run to establish a next penalty.
Is a barbarous lot that worship

harsh decree, the vile work of them wits,
like Israel did bow down to the gold calf of Baal
that them build with them very own hand.

Them love punishment of the most wickedest kind.
Mary, child, you sure-sure when you tell
me this madness you in your right mind?

~Pamela Mordecai
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Other poems by this author on this blog:

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