“Communion” by Dan Leach (Fiction ’20)

Communion

You call us to remember, and we reach back to find the picture. But time has scattered its fragments across our minds like a drunk farmer who danced as he planted. We take in so much. We keep almost nothing. What survives is a miracle. This bread, your body. This wine, your blood. Such kindness, Lord, to hide yourself in tiny fires. What survives must be art.