Shrapnel bores out of Daddy when he chops too much wood. They float to a place near his spine and Momma fishes them out with tweezers and a needle.
Shrapnel bits don’t look like bullets. Sometimes they look like hominy, sometimes like baby teeth. They’ve been coated with scar tissue, given their own skin.
I think it’s strange how Daddy can go on, chopping wood far away from the war with its metal still ripping through his body. Momma says the war never really stops; it just becomes a part of a man and destroys him from the inside out.