”Their friend and houseguest, who was a crow, stopped them at the door. My loves, he said. My dear, sorry loves. It isn’t her. Go back to bed. And let me deal with this. It isn’t her”(84).
Reminds me of Slaughterhouse Five.
“‘You’re welcome. But please remember I am your Ted’s song-legend, Crow of the death-chill, please. The God-eating, trash-licking, word-murdering, carcass-desecrating math-bomb motherfucker, and all that'”(102).
”I’ve drawn her unpicked, ribs splayed stretched like a xylophone with the dead birds playing tunes on her bones”(32).
”I’ve drawn her unpicked, ribs splayed stretched like a xylophone with the dead birds playing tunes on her bones”(32).
I lost a wife once, and once is as many times as a crow can lose a wife"(115).