Jeri Theriault

Girlhood

I keep coming back to the Virgin

who entered via DNA & lodged

in my growing organs

like the cache of pearly

ova nestled in my fetal ovaries

little promises my childhood

ballast Hail Mary full of grace

theme song of all the Catholic

girls—who obeyed & prayed

never thought much

about our souls

in third grade we danced

a Mary May dance in blue dresses

& swayed with the grace

I would later see in Botticelli’s

young Mary—the way she held

her hands her blue cloak.

We studied everything

about that moment with the angel

when we were eight

but by thirteen we wanted

high-heels & kisses unclasped

our rosaries & rolled our school skirts

short. Mary appeared

in stained glass & blue paintings—

her official pigment—ultramarine

from lapis lazuli elevated

to immaculate icon & called

the Queen of Heaven.

I’d rather think of her in undyed

linen when the angel appeared

far too holy for the unsuspecting

girl who however frightened

knew she must say yes

on that starch-scented afternoon

at the very end of childhood.

Jeri Theriault’s recent awards include the 2023 Maine Arts Commission Literary Arts Fellowship, the 2023 Monson Arts Fellowship, and the 2022 NORward Prize (New Ohio Review). Her poems and reviews have appeared in THE RUMPUS, THE TEXAS REVIEW, THE ATLANTA REVIEW, HOLE IN THE HEAD REVIEW, and many other publications. Her collections include RADOST, MY RED, (M)OTHER, and SELF-PORTRAIT AS HOMESTEAD. Jeri lives in Maine.

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