The Rape

The Rape Through paper thin walls we heard the mother say, no stop, stop don`t do this but he did the eighteen-year-old son raped his mother and we sat there trying not to listening to this inequity. In time it became a norm and their bed creaked, we played the radio a bit louder, spoke with raised voices, anything to drown the sin. I was glad the day they moved away, they were now a couple holding hands, and there was nothing we could do, in the end, they had to pay, or perhaps not, as they were knee deep in an obscenity incest, they call love.