Joseph, awkward in celestial matters
But sure enough in action, scratches his beard
And wonders at the baby in the manger.

The child is ordinary, blotched and ugly.
She told him of the angel: he believed her,
Believes in visions: had one of his own:

The being bright and solid, come to tell him
Fear not; she is a virgin, and her son
Is Jesus. Joseph fidgets, feeling nothing,

The vision recalled as fact without conviction,
Cold as dreams in daylight. Mary’s ear
Is tilted, hearing angels. Joseph sighs,

Descends, feeling the stiffness in his knees;
Settles his bulk beside her, touching her shoulder
With his. The baby squalls, and Joseph smiles.

by Joseph Prever

Original bio from the 2006/7 edition:

Joe Prever was born more than two decades ago, since which time he has done little more than dabble. His top three writers are Dostoevsky, Walker Percy, and C. S. Lewis. He currently teaches high school in Lancaster, MA, and plans to really get down to business pretty soon.

This poem originally ran in the Dec/Jan 2006/07 edition of Grub Street Grackle.