The grotesqueries are the point.
It is a cracker, yes,
but it is also His Flesh
being ground to grit between my molars.
Not the Jews (or for the Jews)
Not the Romans (or for the Romans)
but me
for me
And yes,
it is simply lemon tea (instead of grape juice, we’re out)
in a chipped mug but
it’s also his blood
in my mouth
and down my esophagous
that full warm tang
surprises me
shocks me
sickens me
nourishes me
I am a canibal-vampire.
And it seems that this is how it must be.
And so I offer my thanks to God
for it.
