Such cruelty is so subtle,
As a scoff intertwined with a laugh,
Gran's bony elbow dug my pale skin,
A sharp whack up the arm at that,
She says all about the latest rounds,
Of family tea-gossip scones and news,
No papers scatter across these tables,
Word-of-mouth fills these chapel pews,
So she goes like a dictionary on wheels,
Or scripture I read before,
Whispering about the cursed cousin,
An outcast of family lore,
Our such-and-such and his new fella,
Lads only wed for a week,
Surely Gran wouldn't wash her face,
Sin wouldn't speckle her cheek,
What an utter disgrace she moans,
A sour spit in the family's faces,
Having to say her grandson is gay,
Makes Gran take slower paces,
So I merely nodded along,
As for their souls she prayed,
Yet a part of my heart crumbled within,
Shedding to pieces astray,
For I could never then admit,
Where my love lived and lied and longed,
Surely Gran's chest couldn't survive,
A second son's twisted bond,
Years passed and then she did too,
Cousins met on the funeral date,
In silence in stares and in family bonds,
Two prayed-for souls – one fate.