Mother

You don't have good taste in men  
Your first husband raped me  
Your second sent me to the hospital  
I pray there isn't a third  
For more than my own sake  
 
My sister is grown now, a little bigger than me  
When I realized what the first really did to me  
I fear the second will rationalize  
The way he often does in his mind  
And with his words  
 
My brother is still small, a little smaller than me  
When your first put more than his hands on me  
I fear the second will victimize  
This little boy that calls him dad  
With his awful words  
 
I was four mother  
When it started to escalate  
To more than rubbing  
And touching  
And safe  
 
There will always be fear  
 
I was sixteen mother  
When it started to escalate  
To more than orders  
To screams  
And threats  
 
There will always be fear  
 
Mother, you do not have good taste in men  
 
Teach my sister the signs  
Teach her to hate all you seem to love  
Teach her to run, to scream, to always persist  
Teach her because you never taught me  
 
Teach my brother the signs  
Teach him to hate all you seem to love  
Teach him when to let go, to back down, to give up  
Teach him because all boys need to be taught
 
I pray that straws do not have to be repulled  
That the abuse ends with me  
Even when I'm gone  
 
I pray that my sister will not face his wrath  
And never have to experience you stepping back  
 
I pray that my brother will never learn his ways  
And never live to have you find your second in his praise  
 
I pray that you learn  
But I know you will not  
 
I pray for you mother  
I pray to not