Strange Communion

by James Champion

Edited by Ruquayya Sajjida

My reactions are evil, I admit

your family is a host of cloud

complexioned statues.

Their smiles are both present and gone.

And that luxurious living

room window, massive in its grey display

of open space — I’ve believed

your house is all sky, all November.

Now and then, some blurred bird

passes, disproves

the still-life. The frame dissolves

shimmeringly. The clouds gives, give

like a whited-out hand

offering a communion wafer: even when

you appear, smiling in the doorway,

I keep looking for you.

James Champion (he/him/his) is from Whitehall, Michigan. He graduated from Central Michigan University with an MA in Creative Writing in 2019. He currently works as a cashier at a home improvement store. He likes skiing, walking, travelling. In other words, he is frightened of stillness. However, he is also enthralled by it. This balance might well be an accurate summation of his writing.