First born, designated harvester of departed 
father’s estate. Discover all. Take inventory. 
Distribute all. Preserve memory. Auction a life. 

Surprise! Sorting of private belongings exposed 
his pornography collection. Pressed by mattress,
earmarked pages illustrating carnal debauchery. 

Film reels projecting hairy, sweaty people with 
dirty feet copulating in cars, kitchens, schools,
black tape dancing over eyes to disguise identity.

“Oh, Papa!”  

As children, we never knew about parental sex, 
the very spark that ignited existence. Nocturnal
murmurs, whispers, rustling fabric the only clues.

When mother passed, my sister found her private
things. Big things, knobby things with attachments,
battery compartments. One of them had a name. 

“Oh, Mama!”