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A poor murdered young woman.
They begin in the garden
They excavate, forensics
After they dig, tweezer bones
Into freezer bags and clear
The tibula, the pelvis
The remains of a young girl
Young in the years of the lost
Soil sawn, frost split, under the earth
They keep her in a lunch box.
The realm of the mundane seems
A pity now for now she’d
Be thirty five and the man
Who killed her is sixty three
And dies each day in the cage
We’ve put him in and you’ll be
Laid to rest beside your mum
In the last days of your dad;
It’s beautiful you are here.
You are found, walk with the light
For in light you were found yes
A spot light, late in the night
Seventeen years too late, we
Share the blame for that, us all.
