Tuesday, February 12, 2013

A Poem by Melissa Steinle

Father May I

come inside he said
rubbing his beard
with his third right knuckle
let’s make confession

He ushered me in.
He sat me down.

he glided in one door
I fell through another
we separated
by sliding the screen.

He slid it back open.
He reached for my hand.

his tongue fondled his palm
his palm pressed into his cassock
I saw it
and gagged

He wiped my spit.
It became his own.

Melissa Steinle is a graduate of the University of Wisconsin and has her BA in English and her MS in English Studies.  She's had letters published in "Rolling Stone" and "Milwaukee Magazine".  She currently resides in Milwaukee, WI with her family.

1 comment:

  1. Brilliant. With current events being what they are, I’m sure many can relate, even if they don’t really want to.