I believe in body, in blood
but not at the altar
when we are stood
shrouded in smoke.
I believe in the table
in my apartment
and leaven in my bread.
I believe in today but not
Novenas, a stacking of
prayer, because saints
are dead.
I believe in miracles
our fellowship
the halo light of laughter
when we struggle powerless.
I believe then
perhaps even in resurrection
tomorrow’s sun.
I believe in fathers
but not that I have one.
