Already tarnished, the rings -- our faces
distorted and fogged by scratches
when we look to see ourselves
the day we put them on. But we are there,
even so, and the promises:
When communion came
you stopped listening at "When the triune God..."
to hear only my face -- precocious
and anxious -- and you must have known
more of the mystery we ate and drank in:
that love distorts us beyond ourselves
and leaves the promise so obscured
that the other is all and enough to be faithful.
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