Communion

Communion

For the soldiers

Because I read
the soldiers
cannot carry enough water
to slake their thirst
I stand at my tap
thinking of them
under poundage of kevlar and metal

and me here
in cotton nightgown
barefoot at the sink
palming a moist glass
drinking

beyond my kitchen window
watchful yellow eyes
of raccoons huddle
beneath the bird feeder

desert ghosts glide
their dry tongues go begging
under the cool, white moon