By Simon Williams
It was a troublesome meal. He got rather preachy
and Peter, for one, was confused by the foot washing.
But things got really freaky with the bread and wine.
He tried to make out it was his body and blood.
Now I can see a metaphor as well as the next fisherman
and he seemed convinced he wouldn’t be around long,
but even as an allegory, it was beyond strange.
If I’m going to take on board the spirit of God,
I’d rather not pop him in my mouth, piece by piece
and wash it down with a mug of his blood.
I think I can be filled with just a thought of him
anytime I sit in the hills or walk by the sea.
Still, the wine was good, rich as from the highest vineyard,
which in itself was odd, as I set out jugs of water.