Communion

A mortal in his life enjoys

            the use of fragile wonderous toys

And till my scalp does meet with sword

            I'll glory daily in the lord

From Lucifer suckled and born in sin

            I kneel open-mouthed, ready, to take you in

Though atheism seems much safer

            my tongue, it aches to taste your wafer

Lord I glory in this cock

            which, barnacled, sits at the dock

Lord I pray to keep this tongue

            with beads of salty pleasure wrung

God I worship with these eyes

            each, to the heavens, your glory pries

Lord I glory in those curves

            which only mortal man deserves

God, exultant is this nose

            your world infects with spectral prose

Lord I glory in each crease

            wreathed all around by brownish fleece

My prayers take form in each curved ear

            whose shaking makes stark hymns, and dear

This skin, light pink, with hair imbued

            spares me your vissiccitude

Cloudbourne you, must hardly see

            the droplets you inflict on me

In slanted paths your armies sud

            from Gulf to spirit, rain to blood

Your stomach is a crucible

            in which I, pitied morsel, cull

Each moment I in leisure set

            is calculated in my debt

And in this cauldron set on high

            my ears they strain to hear God's cry

"Children!" he screams to mortal kin

            "Communion is a taking in!"