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?