Marcia Pelletiere
Judy French

blue Madonna


were these streets ever clean? ever new? they are tonight as I pass by, mantled in plaster, suspended in a sea of blue that washes down from my robe, down into every corner, through every crack in the pavement, making every city thing clean again. the electric lights arched across the little streets teeming with people. I am a parade, floating above, holiday, holy day, all one. gentlemen, for this night gentle, put their hands on me and pray for my forgiveness, calling me mother, Our Lady, Madonna, throwing flowers at my feet. the darkness is pushed back to the edges of my eyes and I can forget the pain as well as they can, with the sound of round Italian wrapping itself around me like a cocoon. I am on high. I want to say: I was there at all of your births, I was there when your mother died and you held her hand while the body sealed itself closed to air and light, I was there when the Devil was your only companion and you fell. I was there. pass with me through the blue on this night. come home to your Mother who loved this world enough to raise a child destined to be taken away from her. through the dirty streets to this blue ocean light, I say come home.