He pushed through the curtain
before I left the confessional,
thrust himself inside me
and said it was just like loving Jesus.
And I felt the drip in my knickers
as I pulled my wool around my aching breasts
knowing they’d not believe
if I told them, never Father Mike.
Now I’m here on the edge
With his wee bairn, all pale and suckly
Like the milk he’d drain from me
Without e’er a bit o’ me in him.
All Father Mike and you, Jesus,
and if that’s being loved by You
I’ll suffer hell and give
the babe to the deep.
(c) Gay Reiser Cannon
A response to Seamus Heaney’s Poem Limbo and a protest of the Catholic Church’s eternal covering up of rapist priests worldwide.
Written sometime in the ’90s. I forgot about it for a while and realized while reading Heaney today that I wanted to post it on my blog. This was before this issue became a crisis for the Catholic church.