Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Eucharist, Again

Scooped out and hollowed in the hand
all of me could fit
in a thimble,
in an oyster shell.

Crumbs I have licked from my shoulder are some-
time's sawdust, some apostrophe's miss-

Wear? Hear. Hear in this place. Wear nothing. Adam and Eve
were perfect, once, and I was
never good.

Scooped out and swallowed, pressed against your teeth
you spread me over the roof
of your mouth. You followed
with a glass of water.

Catch up to me. I'm charred and shuddering.
As if the bells and gulls and rocks were wine,
were bread, were blessing, win me back
and clasp me from behind.