Eucharistic Theology #5

Like a trembling
jack sprat
who eats no fat
no bread, not even
the barbecue brought special
up the mountain
she has lost her taste for it all.

But you will lean over
her anyway
lean in
and tell her you have
homemade peach ice cream
made by your wife

Her bed, shaded by leaves and leaves
of books on shelves that hold up
the walls of this cabin,
shaded, in turn, by the mountain trees,

will shake for a tiny second
when she leaps up.

She will eat sweets.

You will spoonfeed her tiny bites.
she will eat it greedily
and tell you

“That is how peach ice cream
is supposed to taste. You tell your wife that.”

You did not go to fancy schools
to learn how to feed someone with a
damn spoon.

But you did learn the
value of a broken body made whole
in the words shared over a meal.
You did learn the power of sharing that
meal in silence and mystery.

Sometimes it causes you to tremble.
.

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