Two sides of my brain open up into arguing. br One wishes to save, the other- to watch die. br You are speaking to me in closed monologues. br br Your ears, a vacant canal, br your eyes, instruments for measuring light, br do not receive me. br I am the communion, I am the host, br take me, feel me crumble br in your mouth, a bearer of wet words. br I am lying partway to the ground br and my palm is soft butter. br Isn't everybody dead? br br The colors move to black and white br and then suddenly everyone and their tuxedo br becomes grey. br I have watched them become shadows br but they do not notice br my smile holds the remnants br of a dull conversation br between God and myself br and myself.