First there’s Mary: Mary the Mom; Mary the foreman; & Grim Mary- the Reaper.

The sum of the three make one whole Mary. Just as it takes three atoms to make rain, it takes three Marys to make rain matter.

The first Mary is like Buddha with a vagina. Only she is starved & parched of her proper devotion. Bones, once clothed in bolts of flesh, now gleam white after being picked over by those who scavenge after poisoned fish.
Her lotus root germinates within the Fuck-all of the universe & only blooms upon the most wounded surfaces of water. She is the only Mary to accept prayers.

The second Mary is a spreader and folder of plans. She spreads the legs of Vitruvian man, folds his wings back inside his shoulders then folds his blueprint up again & places him back into her briefcase. She keeps him there as a constant reminder of Geometry. She understands that Man relies on Geometry over anything else & happily obliges.
Many think of her as an angel in a hard hat, which is kind of true, only her mode of transportation is more effective than wings. She leaves tiny footprints on every scaffold, but she, herself, is never seen on the job.

The third Mary is deader than dust. She is the most ancient of the three Marys & painfully kyphotic; her spinal column curves into the hard shape of a scythe. Using a cane, she creeps arrhythmically in front of time’s shadow, catching oily glimpses of the moon only when it has a chance to drop down into a puddle. There are laws against praying to this Mary, but it wouldn’t matter. She is much too busy to take any special requests anyway.


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