Days Without End

by Sebastian Barry

Well pride is the fool’s breakfast.

Then rain began to fall in an extravagant tantrum.

Now winter was tightening her noose on the world

By God it wouldn’t even be good enough to weep for him.

Truth to tell she not much smaller than me. If there’s bullets coming after us it’s only a hive of strays. Ain’t no Indians firing now. Not a one. And as we reach the line of Gatling guns we pass Caught-His-Horse-First lying dead. The murderer of Mrs Neale

Kill them all. Leave nothing alive. Everything was killed. Nothing left to tell the tale. Four hundred and seventy. And when the men were done killing they started to cut. They cut out the cunts of the women and stretched them on their hats.

They severed heads and hacked off limbs so they was not going to no heavenly hunting ground.

That old Mississippi is a temperate girl most

times and her skin is soft and even. Something so old is perpetual young. River never crinkles and creases or if she does it’s storms.

You gotta give the world credit for beauty.