Don’t believe the lies:
Joseph was a randy little sod.
That’s why we had to leave,
go back to Bethlehem
where he told his family
I was pregnant with the son of God.
Even they didn’t believe him
and chucked us out, telling us
we could bunk down in the stable,
knowing what an animal he was.
And there were no wise men,
that was just more wishful thinking.

But the boy, he was something else,
his miraculous, unblemished skin
pressed against mine,
his eyes watching my face
as if he could read my every mood.
I could even forgive Joseph,
shut away in his workshop,
drinking himself to pieces.
The boy was mine. No one
would ever take him from me.

The London Magazine
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