Woman

Woman
Someone might read your body like a book

Kata was cared for
Had a varied diet
And was buried wrapped tightly in cloth
She didn't do much physical work
One broken finger
A slightly curved spine
It's none of our business
What colour her eyes
But science says blue

She made a hand sign for "I am sick"
Her hands said "I am sick"
And were understood

Limestone, room bull hissing, a goshawk's broken neck
We know it was boring, sometimes
Call her darling
Call her Kata, daughter, bog girl, body once blood
Believed in god or was made to
Corpse, our lady of the light shoe
Was made of me and made of you
But less electric, with less range to her food

We know she had a hair pin in
When they laid her down
Took off her ring
Made her one living sister
Drop a coin in and sing
Viking mud
Viking sarcasm
Viking stomach's rumbling

She knew the sound of a wasp a-coughing
She knew the squealing wing beats of a giant metal bird
And the bird was a gulp trunking husband
Behaving in their little way, far away
Burning little places, little farms
With little rivers and piglets
And a little leaking rowboat with rusting rivets
She yearned to forgive him, the little shit
Dying on his first little trip
We know he split her lip
We've seen his stone

It says Kata placed this stone in memory of her husband Eric
Who was a good young man killed in England
It says, "Farewell Eric
You joined the dead club in England"

What's left or Eric is
Five meters beneath the Lidl car park in Maldon, Essex
You know, Eric!
Eric wet-boots, Eric one-thumb, scared of his mum
Eric sight-hound, silver coin where his rotted pocket was
Eric thin-beard, black-tooth
Loved his little collection of coloured glass beads
Gap root slack brute
Practical map-reader, happy
Loved insects, especially bees
And there's a worm feasting now
On what was once his knees

And Eric is into the river Chelmer
Into the blackwater
Washed out to sea
Swallowed and pissed, a thousand times over

Bits of Eric make up Jacob
Who stands smoking a Benson
In the exact spot between Lidl and Kwik Fit
Where Eric fell
1300 Harpas ago
At the same exact moment
As bits of Eric fall as rain
On the kneeling archaeologist who gazes down at Kata
In her limestone box
Reading the body like a book

Someone
Might read your body like a book
Unearthed, undead again
What we know is Kata had little thoughts
All the time, then stopped
Like us

She made a hand sign
Asking us: "Let me rest"
And she made it, and made it
And alas
We will not