restricted access Confessions of a Priest
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69 Confessions of a Priest I said something I can’t recall in the pulpit of the packed cathedral. How solitary, wrecked, and incorporeal she rendered me at the altar on which I prayed like a man and failed. To which I return alone on Tuesdays with pure desire to rise like a soul with her into the ether of the clerestory. Turn transparent and blue in the glory of her image in the window that grows newer with age as the light shines through her. deNiord text-2.indd 69 11/10/10 10:40 AM ...


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