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YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE GETTING EVEN

You thought you were getting even with our parents
By attacking your younger brothers—
I was 7 and Peter was 5 when you forced us
To massage your back, pop your pimples,
Then your ass and past that, I won’t let myself remember…

When I confronted you, thirty years later,
At first, you denied it was sexual.
I didn’t argue. But a few minutes later,
You confessed, it was sexual.

It harmed us.
I told you I would do anything if you let Peter
Escape. He was too young. As it was,
He was scarred.
I engaged in acts that make me nauseous now.
But you were harmed more than we two.

You began to equate forcing a child to pleasure you sexually ,
As you repeated it once or twice a week for six years,
It wore a groove in your mind,
And when your daughter was three years old,
You could not stop yourself from wanting her sexually.
You trained yourself to abuse children.
Your crimes scarred you most of all.

I too was scarred by your acts.
Once, in love with a fellow, we had our first fight
And I told him, “If you loved me, you’d hit me.”
That ended that relationship but it took years
For me to realize that something was wrong.

You destroyed that relationship although that happened
Ten years after you went away to college.
I also flipped you, learned from Japanese war movies,
And I told you I didn’t know how I would do it,
But I would kill you if you ever touched me again.

Now you are gone. You left your wife and child,
Unable to control your sexual urges.
Living alone, you were unable to clean up after your two cats,
You had pill bottles and empty scotch fifths lying all over your apartment,
Next to your rifles.
You drank a fifth a day, and took forty Darvon,
Isolated, jealous, angry—you began sleeping 18 hours a day,
Then twenty.
One day you didn’t wake up.

Your agony was forged in our childhood home
In the living room, where you forced me into disgusting sex acts.
Your sins killed you.
You didn’t even turn fifty.

I’m 15 years older that you were when you died.
I am celibate. I find it impossible to have sober sex.
I see you and your fat ass,
The smell,
Your greasy skin.

I sleep alone with your memories
Crowding out any other partner.

I hope you are in hell.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

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