Bodily wedding supper of Lamb,
black clothed, fragile you
balance yourself on sidewalks,
invite in the poorest.
I see your waiting feast, knowledge
of those Merlots, sourdoughs - compound formulas.
Like a star collapsing, you hold me in
endless orbit. Trying to escape, I crash back
down into your gravity, the tired old shepherd at prayer.
Tired of watching and waiting and calling
I touch your face
your goblets
drink from them
and absolved
I have Communion
broken ///