Exhumation

They buried a woman in the wrong place

so we dug her up at midnight from

where they’d insisted she remained, 

racked her body along our shoulders

and left, her hair a limpid trail behind us.

The men tracked its swish marks

so we walked faster for days

almost starved, until

almost there, we rest,

shelter under her cloak,

garlanded over branches,

find her flesh in her pocket

eat it hot and fresh and green;

She wouldn’t mind us

eating her cooking,

finding her lodging