The Last of the Modern Day Sin-eatersbygreenmountaineer©
Gwyneth was his goat from Leviticus
whenever she bleached Father’s accidents
whose battle with death at that stage of grief
did not want a truce for anything
while Mother spilled tea again in the kitchen,
regretting each day by the River Dee
and dreamed how pretty she once must have been.
Looking for something to eat for dinner,
Mother took bara brith from the freezer,
ignoring initials carved in the crust
of her husband for neighborhood old men
who swore that his spirit never would rest
when Gwilym’s body was laid in the ground
unless they drank ale with some of his bread.
She remembers those last days with Father
and the one son in North America
who comes to visit every third Christmas
at the Lady Forester Nursing Home
where this very day she met a new nurse
whose eyebrows frowned when Gwyneth requested
a small keg of ale and bag of flour.