My body was used for communion
Consumed until there was no more
Flesh or blood to ravage
But I was not an offering
My hair was not lamb’s fur
I was not sent to be Your savior
No plans for me to die for Your sin
All the same, You devoured me
For sustenance
Without my approval
You sacrificed me when You
Knew I was not willing to be
Diminished down to a casual meal
Used my ribcage to build shelter
My hair crocheted into cloth
You strung me up for slaughter
A pool of me for You to
Methodically drag Your shoe through
As You pondered Your victimhood
How unfairly the world had treated You
Nothing good ever happened to You
You’d never made a fault in Your near
Three decades
You pondered Your sainthood as You
Wiped Your mouth of Type A+
(Hope that’s a good strain, Darling)
And when You finished Your pitiful picnic
I kissed You with forgiveness as
You discarded my body with the dinner scraps
