where
the wedding party sat.
it kept
the large black flies out
that hovered
near the spit
where a monstrous
still head on
pig spun
across a charcoal pit.
the cake
looked melted.
four tiers, no
limits on expense.
was it all an omen of
sorts.
the heat of day,
the rain. thunder
and lightning.
perhaps it was.
a funeral was just a year
away
for the ecstatic groom,
finding love
at last
at this late stage.
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