The ****

Through paper thin walls we heard the mother
say, no stop, stop don't do this
but he did the eighteen-year-old son
***** 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 ******, they call love.