When brother first found himself
a tug, a short nub of flesh
at once noticed
The skin a wrinkled pink tail
his chest still a bare board
a pin south his tummy
In his bed, hiding on his side
all under the covers,
his pants in a bundle
at the bottom of the mattress
With his prayer hands
rubbing and pulling
the anxious creature
He, who's hands flop to his sides
at any night sounds
His head hung guiltily
as mother washes him
A small rise
New found pleasures
too hard to understand
yet thoroughly they shame him
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