‘From The Museum of Mary’

The Announcement
A bird came to see me once, a talking magpie
that said, This will happen—

and I didn’t so much agree as think,

why me? It was arbitrary, as far as I could see. Ordinary—being at hand and being
asked to do whatever needs doing. Steadfast

as a tattoo that can’t be washed off.
A castle that isn’t mine reminds me that this
was not my idea, especially considering

how inevitable death is, the way it falls
like a cascading drape from the waist
to the floor, a soft door . . .