Lady Cathy Gritter took me into her church
near her garden door that led only outward.
It had nine panes of stained glass
that guarded the treasures within the hall.
On the pristine white shelves
is where she stored centuries of art,
a sacramental archive of holiness.
I’d enter her church through the side door
withering looks from her husband William
glared resentment at my childish intrusion
I scooted sinfully through to gaze with adoration
at the hallowed scriptures
blessed gospels of
van Gogh, Picasso, de Vinci, Kahlo
offering sermons of:
Sunflowers, Girl Before a Mirror, Mona Lisa, and Weeping Coconuts.
I was allowed to peer into the eyes of holy angels
upon my confessional return of each holy grail.