I Couldn't Talk About It So I Wrote A Poem

Dear uncle, what can I say at the twilight of my life about the things you did to me About a time of my youth when I could barely talk, let alone write poetry We were family so I was told as they gave away my bedroom and accommodated you and your entire family Backbone and boundaries words yet to be tasted on a little girls silent muted lips... I slept on a broken cot in the living room with my cousin Nina while you got to sleep in my soft bed. I was the offspring of your wife's brother, did that not mean anything to you ? You pressed your old lips on hers told her she tasted good you made her weep and cry, run away and hide Silent secrets festered between you and I You, an immigrant pedophile who knew not the meaning of family nor decency ... Dear uncle, You pressed my young lips with your salty ones taking my innocence while mom lay on a hospital bed miles away from home. My other body guard, father and hero was busy in the cellar, funneling sweet wine to serve your bitter belly. I tried to tell mom ages later beneath outstretched stars but she said God spared her the knowledge for she couldn't have handled the knowing, back then as if it was all about her and not me. Too bad God didn't spare that little girl uncle, was she not worth it ? heh At twelve years of age I picked up a pen and I wrote about what I couldn't speak of yes, I became a poet thanks to you ! I turned to verse like a hungry beast with her tongue cut out. As you lie in your grave, do you remember the child in me? do you recall the warm baths you were denied access to ? Thank God mom came home and you and your entire family moved out Do you remember that stone face girl with the sepulcher mouth that said that spoke with her eyes only, " keep out " Do you remember me, Uncle G ?