can a communion cup be a plastic bowl used for Cheerios by a worn-down woman wearing

        her daily headset saying, 

        you’ve reached North Florida Regional Bank how can I help you

till she is sick of her own mouth? 

can a preacher be a tired dad whose Bible drowns in a neon rainbow of sticky notes,

        and nobody knows the version as he shouts 

        this is my beat-up childhood Bible, do you mind?

pages falling out, raining down like mana slices. 

can four people be a congregation if they know each other’s laughs, secrets, card game tells,  

        family-famous garlic bread recipes—is hell 

        banished back, does a Pentecostal flame

burn on our heads, even here?