salvation and tiny thumbs

the doors wrinkle open
with a city squeal and forty
feet slapping dirty stairs

in her own personal manger
the virgin touches her cheek
tenderly.

her eyes are still blue
the hair on her head is thin
and dark

her skin is brown velvet
when i notice her minuscule fingers

messiah
messiah
you have come.

i wonder, do they know?
do they see her
the angels around her
the glow of her
the hymn on her lips

i wonder,
do her wordless words
speak to these men
and these women

do they hear the prayer
for peace
for love
for the end of days