Firstly, his hands - a woman's. Softer than mine,
with pearly nails, like shells from Galilee.
Indolent hands. Camp hands that clapped for grapes.
Their pale, mothy touch made me flinch. Pontius.
I longed for Rome, home, someone else. When the Nazarene
entered Jerusalem, my maid and I crept out,
bored stiff, disguised, and joined the frenzied crowd.
I tripped, clutched the bridle of an ass, looked up
and there he was. His face? Ugly. Talented.
He looked at me. I mean he looked at me. My God.
His eyes were eyes to die for. Then he was gone,
his rough men shouldering a pathway to the gates.
The night before his trial, I dreamt of him.
‘He looked at me. I mean he looked at  me ’. Procula uses repetition for emphasis. The moment that he notices her, though brief, excites her. ‘My God’ can be read in several ways. It is an exclamation, used frequently in modern speech. But it could also refer to the biblical God. It could furthermore be a reference to the man, the lover, the ‘someone else’ that Pilate’s wife has been longing for.
Pilates Wife