I dipped the bread and waited 

And for the first time the juice

As it soaked the bread to where

A bead of juice rolled down my hand

A pregnant pause

And as it flowed over my fingers

Past my palm

It tumbled through the air as a single drop landed on the floor

“Take and eat”

The taste is supposed to stay in your mouth

But it never did long for me

But now my fingers are sticky from the juice

It’s an hour later, the taste is already gone

But my fingers are still sticky

Did the taste of bread stay in His mouth

As long as it did in mine

Or did the taste turn to copper as soon as the iron pierced?

As the blood rolled down His fingers and fell

A single drop to the ground

I wonder if His hands were dripping like mine

I guess not — mine stopped dripping