THAT NIGHT, I find a body in the attic and it’s hard as diamonds and I look for more. The second body I find is a pile of soft bones and surprising shapes of teeth behind a panel in the basement. In the middle of the kitchen, the third body’s nails have screamed themselves out of the retreating fingers of collapsed flesh, a pile of rot that lies there as if it hasn’t been moved in decades. I go outside and find a cranium, a tibia, a phalanx, and a pubis scattered from an open grave, as though dropped out of gathering arms, and I assemble them into a skeleton, ablaze under that broad and
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