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The Blessed Mother Complains to the Lord Her God on the Abundance of Brokenness She Receives

By Mary Karr b. 1955 Mary Karr

Today I heard a rich and hungry boy verbatim quote

all last night’s infomercials — an anorectic son

who bought with Daddy’s Amex black card

the Bowflex machine and Abdomenizer,

plus a steak knife that doth slice

the inner skin of his starving arms.

Poor broken child of Eve myself,

to me, the flightless fly,

the listing, blistered, scalded.

I am the rod to their lightning.

Mine is the earhole their stories pierce.

At my altar the blouse is torn open

and the buttons sailed across

the incensed air space of the nave,

that I may witness the mastectomy scars

crisscrossed like barbed wire, like bandoliers.

To me, the mother carries the ash contents

of the long-ago incinerated girl.

She begs me for comfort since my own son

was worse tortured. Justice,

they wail for — mercy?

Each prostrate body I hold my arms out for

is a cross my son is nailed to.

NOTES: Read the Q&A with Mary Karr about this poem

Source: Poetry (December 2012).

Biography

Poet and memoirist Mary Karr was born in 1955 and raised in Texas. The author of several critically acclaimed books of poetry, including Abacus (1987; reprinted 2007), The Devil’s Tour (1993), Viper Rum (2001), and Sinners Welcome (2006) she is also the author of a trilogy of memoirs: The Liar’s Club (1995), Cherry (2001), and Lit (2009). Karr’s poetry and prose frequently include autobiographical elements, including her . . .

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