Who’d you say your daddy was, again?

I ain’t said – 
No, sirs, I ain’t.
Reckon y’all’d know his name before I ever would
On account of my having never heard it.

Well, you kin to so-and-so?

How am I meant to know who the hell I’m kin to?
Half the holler, quarter of the town;
Throw a stone, you hit a cousin.
Whole home is haunted by distant haints and neverweres.

Swear, that’s a Smith nose if I ever saw one.

I’ll search the post-church crowd for their breed,
Then search my mirror for evidence
Of their nose on my face
And their blood in my filthy veins.

Everwhat’d your Mama call you?

My name.
The name her own absent daddy gave her.
Best sin she’d ever committed –
A dead-ringer for my daddy.