Eulogy for the Eucharist

Bereft of your body
my tongue has lost
its taste for bread,

for the wonder
of a reappearing.
The flesh wasted

to skin and pit—
no juice to press,
no river through

the cleft of your chin
into the wanting cave
of my mouth—

that surge within
I can’t survive
without. The heat

of your breath
flooding
from you to me.

My lips chap
and crack
in this absence

of a salty sweet
sour bite,
the potent swallow—

the palate gone
stale, every taste bud
thirsty

for the lifting
sun, morning
downpour.

My upturned face
hungry

Published by asaur