Shy bones peer through my skin like a hide
-and-seek game I wound up lost in.
How long will my body feast upon itself,
dark wine of my spirit poured out,
before I invite you to share in it?
Let’s call this communion. Here I am,
a sacrament. Take and eat.

I am a bird hitting the window. I am the ants I once mangled on the concrete as a kid. I am the bundle of peonies in my mother’s arms, picked from her garden in the backyard. I am shattered robin eggs beneath a tree. I am the spring’s defrost, the redbud blooms in March, the delight of your heart. I am a bride draped in white, and this is our marriage song. How long until I feel the release of this ache seared upon my skin? You say, Watch and see what I shall do. I will, Lord, I will.