it’s not my fault

you can’t blame a man

not one

with a past like mine

none of it

was my fault

​

when I                was a boy

the lady down the street

the one with

black curly hair falling

to the backs of her knees

she did                the same                things

to                me

her husband was

always gone and

she told me

she was lonely

she told me

she needed me

I was only

nine years old

so

I couldn’t

fight back

I’ve tried to

forget the feeling

her hands

left on me

the smell she left

on my clothes

when she handed them

back to me

every night I drown those

memories with the only

medicine I ever believed in

ice cold heineken

there were some things

the booze couldn’t hold back

though

like                the                urges

I tried not to

look at my niece

the way I did

I tried not to

touch her

the way I did

I really did

​

but she told

I denied it

all of it

my kids believed me

so did

my wife

they thought my niece

was just making it up

I still couldn’t risk

touching her

again

luckily

she moved

soon after

​

it can’t be

my fault

there is a sickness

living inside of me

the kind that kept my fingers lingering

longer than

they should have

that sent my hands

to places

they

should not have touched                should not have loved

when my granddaughter was born

that sickness

came back

and not even the booze

could keep my hands

from her

​

she was quiet                and trusting

never told anyone

about the nights

when I’d let my hands

trace the lines of her body

she was so young

only two years old

when I’d first

tasted her

she was pure                and perfect

untouched by any man

her long brown hair

kept in tight braids

at the sides of her head

pale skin and wide eyed

nothing like the woman

that had taken

my youth

from me

you can’t blame a man for doing

the things I did

not with a past

like mine

I love my niece

and

I love my granddaughter

I love all the girls

that let me

explore them

it was

 never my fault

none of it was

I didn’t ask to be

substitute for that woman’s

husband

any more than

I asked for the

sickness that lives inside

of                me