My great uncle
on my mother’s side,
a closeted Catholic priest–
or so the gossip followed
wherever he went—
when he saw me
would always say
for a great nephew
you ain’t so great.
Expected to sing song
for a great uncle
you ain’t so great.
And I would at first
with glee joining in
on such blasphemy
but less and less so
as the years went by
and the truth of silence
hardened, candle wax.
Now it’s just sad
to glean the self-hate
sewn into that game
and the shame
that came
with taking it out
stitch by stitch.