of Tours

January 23, 2012
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conversion, canabalism trancendence;
three years of unanswered unbaptized blessings,
spent wondering what the Eucharist tastes like:
airy, light, like cinamon?

one May morning, I finally snuck a bite
the pastor placing the mana on my tongue
like i, his little infant brother

how brittle, stale, and unexpectedly
it wilted on my tongue like paper,
the myth ripped

disgusting, faithless, "family-less":
what is this?
I can't believe they eat this

savior, savior
from there on afterwards, I was left unattended,
jealous, to watch Sunday reruns of Looney Toons

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