Jesus, Made of Crackers.

He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him. - John 6.

The priest commands me to kneel.
Eager, I open my mouth wide.
He places it on my tongue.
Salty.
I swallow.
The wine.
The love.
The shame.
The fear.
The guilt.
The excitement.
Of what this man does to me.
He has made me a cannibal.

When.

Remember when
the blood
rained from the sky

as if
God
was hemorrhaging?

When the wolves and ravens
swarmed the Vatican
and devoured their eyes?

When the first
soulless child
was born

To a dying mother
in the
catacombs?

Remember?
Remember when?