drmstream

T’s com­mu­nion

When I go to com­mu­nion hold my hand.

The change in the air,
The rus­tle of the heavy clothes,
The scuff of shoes against the pol­ished slate,
The soli­tary cough,
The clap of the wood boards against metal stays,
The mumur­ing up ahead,
The swollen rota­tion of the bel­lows,
The still­ness of the lift,
A mir­ror, and its image,
The shake in my hand and the dis­qui­et­ing
White noise that buzzes in my skull

All con­fuse me and I don’t under­stand what to do.

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