He’s my brother, the poet says. I love my brother. Knowing about the rape, I tell him, that must be really hard for you. My dad, he beat him, the poet says. Really beat him after he found out. Violence with more violence. But I don’t think a day goes by that I don’t think about what he did. And you want to know the fucked-up thing? The other day, they all went golfing. My brother, the woman he raped, and my dad. I remember how after the rape, there was this whole boys will be boys attitude. And now it’s been years.
