Uncle Ian,

been putting this off for some time as i don’t think of you much.

or is it: i don’t think much of you?

you’re the kind of cop gives the name for pigs

& i can’t ever remember a kindness a kind word from you.

pig of a man is all think now.

i do remember the sly punches, dead arm digs.

times you handcuffed me back of the sofa so i couldn’t watch tv.

you pulling at my fingernails to extract ‘confessions’ that you’d then use to give excuse to your sister, my stepmother to inflict further violence upon me.

a nasty piece of work who wanted in your early years to report your brother Harold for ‘riding his bike without lights’

i liked your wife she seemed to try though you shut that down quick, a poor woman with poor sight it seemed: she kept on walking into doors, getting black eyes.

& the dogs you’d take on: ‘to rescue’

you’d incite them to attack me when no one was around then jeer at me for being scared when people were.

pig of a man is all think now.

i’d like if i could to feel something for you, if anything, maybe it was your honesty: i was a burden to your sister.

& your unkindness was just that, being truthful to the situation.

she wanted my father but to do that had to take me on too & she just didn’t have the skills, the love within her to take on a grieving child wanting care & kindness from his mother. (she had run away years before)

i became her burden & you resented me for that.

congratulations, eh?

a grown man hating & bullying a child for circumstances the kid had no control over.

pig of a man is all think now.

you the supposed pillar of the community taking your shit out on a kid.

i won’t think on you again

you are a pig of a man.