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First Holy Communion
Frankincense swoons around my veiled head,
lingers sacred in
my nostrils, on this
my wedding day.
Behind the altar, the priest raises
the Host and Chalice,
chants ancient words turning
bread into Flesh, red wine into Blood.
The ritual thunders in my virgin heart
as I await union
with the sorrowful,
glorious Beloved.
Like an eager fledgling, I tilt my head
back, expose my pink tongue
to the white glowing wafer
held between the priest's thumb and forefinger---
"The Body and Blood of Christ"
"Amen."
Eating His flesh.
| --sweet melting in my mouth |
| Sipping His spirit |
| --warm sliding down my throat, |
| Swallowing Love, Purity and Pain. |
My mouth, yet unkissed by a lover,
has made love to vanilla ice cream cones,
smooth baby rattles and fallen leaves
that I licked to taste their orange and greens.
Taking anything into my wet, feeling
mouth is sacred communion.
My tongue accepted Christ, absorbed Him
through my saliva, that Spring day in second grade.
I cried, as Brides sometimes do,
tears of gratitude from my heart.
For I deeply knew I was Home…
Jesus, my first lover, you entered
my body and branded my Soul
with fire --
Still my tongue yearns to taste
you in holy kisses of pure desire.
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