Communion
Take each offering on your tongue –
. resist the urge to bite. Copper
. dissolves first, leaves rust-coloured streaks
. across your teeth,
your gum lines; the silver cleanses
. the bloodstream, moonlight reflected
. in the basin pool it leaves; gold,
. most precious of
metals, reveals the currency
. of holy men, conducts wealth, heat,
. business as usual, breaks down
. quickly to dust.
Hands cupped, communion altar
stretched out to claim peace, wafer thin
as plastic sheets, cardboard. The night
walks past unphased.
.
Christopher James is an emerging poet from Birmingham. His work has previously been published in Lumpen Journal, and discusses issues of class, upbringing, and urban environments. He currently co-edits The Utopia Project, a political arts and literature magazine.
Amethyst Review 