who knew

your sister,
as your mother lies
dying
in a fog, immersed
in the blood of a broken
vein,
claims a man
touched her,
did things, unspeakable
things
to her.
she was young,
in her room, tucked cleanly
away
for safe
keeping until morning
when he came
in, a shadow against shadows,
sat down beside her.
where were we?
mother, father.
anyone with a club to take
him out.
but now,
as your mother sleeps
in some
in between world without memory,
she speaks.
she speaks of the horrors
of her childhood.
who knew,
but her finger clearly
pointing
at blame.