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Click hereWhere were we wearing the odd collar,
weary for the tie, tied but disheveled
and untried, knees shaking as sweat rolled
from a wet brow, we bowed, our backs bowed:
strung so tightly when we stood we shot
like an arrow, catching ourselves with one foot
on the altar, the other quivering on carpet
while the wafer winnowed away in water (not air)
our deserted and dusty, dry mouths divining
but a few drops to melt the body of our Lord?
It was the first, of many at the time, as we
fervently followed the footsteps before us
in the long Communion lines that shortened
in the years, fading as faith fallowed
in the forlorn rows of empty pews, prayer
but a light conversation in the bright rays
of the morning sun mourning forgotten vows
and the "Our Fathers" or "Hail Maries" recited
in contrition for sins we no longer believed
to "our" God of concise and convenient salvation.
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 39,000 poems.
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concise poetry. I enjoyed reading this a lot. Your technique here is quite deft and details such as 'knees shaking as sweat rolled from a wet brow, we bowed, our backs bowed:
strung so tightly when we stood we shot
like an arrow' creates an intimate picture in the readers mind.