White Bones

certain people wanted a place to hide certain remains that they didn’t want nobody to find,

sharply-sloping driveway led down

slate roof, with six or seven leafless elms standing

steady drizzle, with a beery-breathed

John strode long-legged down toward the gate.

raggedy old brown tweeds and gumboots

umps of sticky mud pattering off the wheels

They could let their demons sleep in peace, but they insist on prodding them into wakefulness, like naughty children taunting a mad dog.”

“Well, that’s very selfless of you. But I’m afraid that you have a destiny which far supersedes any consideration for your parents.”

“You’re crazy.”
“And you’re not crazy? Going to Mass every Sunday, and eating a biscuit, and thinking that it’s Jesus you’re eating?”