Stages

There was that density
in Catholicism – shade
in ambers & granite – a
mob of belief – prettier
than Anglicism – lustier
with bared flesh & sins
to be forgiven/ Rituals
are their rubbed rivets
holding each tipping of
head from nodding off
& failed priests in place

Thieves will flourish by
candlelight [dips into a
blind pew – he will lurk]
as if actors by limelight
[to off-stage directions]
Give me my line! is spat
by a dulled parishioner
who fails to see a hymn
in his index of first lines
& I will not allow for her
God to fund as an angel