“What the hell did you do?”
Was shouted at red cheeks,
lashing his face with guilt and spit.
As he turned and left, alone
against the onslaught of fists pummeling.
Every envenomed hit, a percussion of derision.
The Catholic conscience cleanser,
mopping away the sin,
absolved by the fist and the sobs.
Away from the house, away from them.
Ring flung at the retreating man.
Gold against the tides of black.