Holy Communion

A circlet on your tongue
The body of Christ
Melts in the heat
Of your mouth
The blood of your Fathers Son
Brought to your lips
Small drops of Ruby wine
Slip past your chin
Stain the crisp white collar
Of your Sunday best
The liquid smells sour
In the shining silver cup
Behind you His flock gathers
Waiting for their turn
To absolve their daily sins
White souls into the morning light
Return to the loom
And weave rich tapestries
Of poverty that cloak
Their work worn shoulders