The Heavy Tread of Deacons

When I was about ten

And our church had the Lord’s Supper,

I couldn’t wait for it to be over

So I could go home and get out of my

Scratchy suit and constricting tie.

It didn’t help that I couldn’t take

Communion.

I was bored, and looked around,

Fascinated by the fox stole

Draped around the neck of

The woman in front of me.

The fox had been arranged

So that it bit its own tale,

And the beady eyes looked at me.

I thought it was bored, too,

But hope came

When I heard

The heavy tread of deacons

Walking past me

Bearing trays with what remained of

Small glass cups of grape juice

(Baptists didn’t drink wine, even for a

Church service, and we used cubes of

Wonder Bread instead of matzoh),

They lined up in front of our pastor

Who took the trays and

Put them on the communion table.

One short prayer and

A hymn (with no benediction)

And that was it.

I was released

Until the next month.