I offered up my mother’s soul
to the black-and-white priest at the altar.
It was in my mother’s honor;
the church shed its honor long ago.
I would have accepted the wafer
and wine in my mother’s name
but the priest refused me
as I left the church long ago.
The stained glass windows poured light
the color of blood and the gargoyles
have ceased scaring away evil long ago.
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