Shame

by Wendy Lyon

We were so ashamed, so ashamed,

and everybody knew about it, everybody,

because the police came and took him

from his work and the newspaper

had his picture splayed out on Page One,

his blond hair fading into his white skin

so he seemed all face, deformed in height. All

face, his face, our father's, our father's.

Some money thing we didn't want to understand

though we did, well enough, when we read his letter

saying he'd wanted the best for us. So now

it's Our Fault? my sister hissed, Our Fault, now,

do you believe that? She crumpled his letter

and put it in a bowl. This'll make it safe,

she said, It's stainless steel, and she Lit a Match

to burn up Every Lying Word of his,

the Lying Words flamed up as the crumples caught

and I began to cry, crying harder

when I saw our mother in the doorway,

she looked like she was trying not to look

sad, she said, I have good news, she said, Tomorrow

we'll leave for St. Louis, where your uncle

lives, she said, you'll never have to go back

to that school again, I won't let anyone

tease or hurt you again because of him.

Because of him we left Brookline in darkness

next morning for our uncle and St. Louis,

for St. Louis, where we were given

a new last name and our mother became

a teacher again, and so many years

have passed we've almost but not ever really

forgotten the shame, our shame, our shame.