Exhumation
Gravel voice,
pear shaped,
he had no choice,
but to dig,
and that was the only reason
he was there,
the stench, faint,
but foul in the frigid air,
he’d stop if he could,
as he concentrated his shovel
on the edges of the wood,
which was solid as the ground,
he wanted to sit,
because the smell was so bad,
he couldn’t help but get a whiff of it,
his fingers would hurt,
as he tried to free the top of the casket
from the surrounding dirt,
a consecrated cemetery, hallowed ground,
bull-shit in a handbasket,
there was evidence in that casket
which kept running down,
it was in the report,
so the exhumation was ordered,
by a judge in the circuit court.
© 2012 Frank Atanacio