Disparaging –

It was 1955, a disparaging mouth gave up loud shouts on six siblings, two parents, and a one-eyed grandmother.
he came back out of pity, arrived and contracted the pale illness of inevitability.
they stood still, watched his walk-back, looked down at a brother’s cobbled pockets, knew the format of loose coin.
they had scratching body dirt, it had thickened, formed crust, carbolic soap hadn’t filled any hand while he’d tried not to die.
that past life, the dark bedroom for three, there, wardrobe doors openly emitted eye-level maker’s label, the soon-to-be wedding suit had turned into drink, had befriended a pawn shop.
gritted teeth and genetic failures, and a marriage at a side-altar, the heresy account, fiancé’s theological training sparse, unaware of clever little protestant team-sheet – Calvin, Luther, Knox, Zwingli, – still looked beautiful, still, ‘still a big altar’.
but, for Best Man finding out ancestors died in an insane asylum, inevitably, no other news arrived post-nuptial.

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