Communion is often described as a holy act to commemorate the joining of an individual with the ‘body’ of Christ. There is a dissolving of boundaries and a moment of bliss that comes with truly enveloping oneself in the energy of a higher being, whom (or what) ever that may be. Ironically, where people give a pass to drinking and eating in the name of faith, lovers are condemned. Although lover’s do not drink each other’s blood or offer body for hors d’oeuvres, there are innate similarities in how lovers and sinners show their admiration. The communion at an alter, at a table, in a bed, all share a joining of emotional, spiritual, and physical bonding.

As you watch “Communion”, I challenge you to blur the lines between sanctity and singularity. After all, faith is based on a relationship, one that cannot exist without love.

the poem

There is a soft lava

seeping into the 

cold places in my thighs.

Hot with curiosity

as to how you pull

water out of sponges

without squeezing.

Droplets, gather and pool

like rain on slick surface,

you rained me on myself

and gushed sounds

into my mouth.

Ruptured in rapture

and I hope the angels

don’t find us.