my last communion.
You are my first.
I look to window
This cloudy reflection,
Place your skin
On my tongue
This salty taste
This melted
Sacred wafer.
I answer
The questions.
You breathe
Mine back.
Our blood
Drawn long
Between pews
Of holy vows
And seplichurs of
Ancient aisles.
This sound
Of coloured waters,
The rocks and racks
Of time, carry
Our excommunication
In the bedrooms
Of our souls,
Tied and
Bound
Bedpost to bedpost
They gather,
Form that circle
Of judgement
To brew,,
their eyes
Not averted
From us,
We take our
Communion
On long black
Satin sheets.
This windowed room
Of bare stripped wood-
Her crossed panes
Smoked and stained,
Witness the shard
That cuts us free,
The tantric chord
That choked our dreams.
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