Raw and unflinching, Last Communion dissects the relationship between intimacy and violence with surgical precision. These poems prowl through urban darkness where desire turns predatory and every touch leaves a scar. In this twisted cathedral of noir, confession booths become crime scenes and altar wine mingles with blood. Each piece maps the geography of obsession - through morgues and bedrooms, sanctuaries and sacred spaces - charting territories where killer and victim blur into a single desperate choreography. This is poetry that bleeds, where shadows fuck brick walls and stilettos drill holes in midnight's membrane. Here, every murder is a perverse sacrament, every seduction a profane ritual. Susan Molyneaux transforms noir conventions and Catholic imagery into a deeply personal exploration of power, death, and desire. Like a detective's flashlight cutting through incense-thick darkness, these poems illuminate the savage beauty in our darkest urges, creating a collection that is both confession and crime scene, both autopsy and unholy communion. In these pages, even prayer becomes a weapon, and every altar holds the potential for sacrifice.