Bread and Blood

“You could always dip the wafer

in the goblet,” my friend said. "It’s the least messy option, the

clean sanitary way."

My experience was limited, so

I decided to take him up

on the offer to remain

ever so prim, ever so proper.

It seemed much more agreeable. After all,

who wants to kneel with open, parted

lips, like some hopeful nursing babe?

Wasn’t it enough to simply bend low?

But as the cup came closer, more words

in priestly voices made me long

to drop the moon inside my palm, to

reach past the wooden railing, to grasp

silver with both my hands.

I’d risk the crumbs and germs, if they'd only let me drink 'til the cup was empty. While wine dribbled

slowly down my own

dirty chin.

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