Abstract
I dunk another piece of fish
into the bowl of beer batter
and let sizzling sunflower oil
turn it crispy golden brown
as a wisp of steam arises
like the Spirit well pleased
with my sacrament at home
on a Saturday creating
after six long days of work.
I hover over the past week:
sitting with a recovering addict
waiting in the sun to be changed;
counseling a young couple
seeking the Spirit in their marriage;
and preparing my new brother Ali
for baptism, imparting a life
immersed in the sacred presence
over good coffee.
My fish tacos are a sacrifice
consumed by the Spirit like fire
and by my family at the table,
beloved sons and daughters
with tortillas and shredded cabbage,
an offering made holy
to this good body united—
a sprinkling of garlic aioli
anointing our Sabbath rest.
RYAN KEATING
