I can't shake the pictures
You've locked in my head
I got desperation
Tearing up my voice
The goat broke forward.
When Starr swung, she swung at everything. At Tim dying and leaving her with the farm, the kids, the endless chopping, weeding, canning. At her needy silence that had taken her only friends.
The crowbar met the side of Jimmy’s neck. He stumbled sideways.
Starr choked up on the iron and swung down on the top of his head.
Blood sprayed from Jimmy’s nostrils and over Starr’s bare legs as he went down. Starr stood above him, crowbar raised. He didn’t move. Not a twitch.
what am I to do
Who am I, who am I
Living without you