top of page
POETRY
Origins of my Overbite
Mel Connelly
00:00 / 00:52
Celestial in a blue robe, Mother Mary came down to grace
the earth with her breasts exposed. When I took one of her nipples
in my mouth, I swear to God it wasn’t erotic. When she stroked
my hair and rocked, I swear to God, it wasn’t erotic, Lord, no
apotheosis, no saint pricked by needle, no eyes rolled back,
stuck and euphoric for Jesus.
She’d known I’d been deficient of nurturing,
her heavenly maternal affection, so she moved me to
her other before I reached my limit, stomach round
with wisdom. Gentle. As if she had a daughter.
The milk fresh, my cheeks red, I fell asleep
in her lap, sucking my thumb for ages.
bottom of page