It feels like dying, this new life you gave,
this roughskinned seed of faith. I'm like a stone
caught in your throat. You said you'd save
sinners, not the righteous. Your name tastes
burned and bitter in my mouth.
You said you wouldn't leave us, here, alone.
Your blood's dried sticky, bitter on my teeth--
the hot salt lump of meat caught in my throat.
I gulp and choke. It's not meat my body needs,
not this raw gore. I wanted bread and wine.
You said this is my body: take and eat.
I take you into myself. My stomach turns
outside itself, revolts. I'd throw you up
like the beast revolted Jonah onto the earth,
to preach your gospel to some shithole shanty town
poor enough to pray for your new birth.
I drink you like gold ash: precious, poison.
Crawl like a fly, tasting the burned dirt with my feet
to crystal streams, where praise warps into noise,
salt in my ears.
I hate it here.
I hate it here.
And you, still, say Come. Say,
Take and eat.
