Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Trench digging tonight,
Your Uncle Mike said.

Down in the churchyard.
You gazed at him hard,

Thinking you misheard,
One of his leg-pulls,

Waiting for the smile.
It’s for the drainage,

Your uncle added,
To lay the pipes in.

You noticed his hair,
The ginger going,

The grey creeping in.
Later that evening

By moonlight and lamp
That Uncle had brought,

You began the dig.
Uncle in one trench,

You in the other.
Owls hooted nearby,

Bats flew overhead.
What about the bones?

You called from the trench.
Put them on the side,

Uncle Mike replied,
We’ll rebury them,

Lay them back to rest.
You dug up a bone,

Coloured a light brown,
The size of your hand,

Held between fingers,
Turned in the moon’s light.

An odd pair you two,
At that time of night,

In the old churchyard,
Like that Burke and Hare,

Of Edinburgh fame,
Many years ago.

Wind blew through the yews,
Church bells chimed the hour,

Uncle lit his pipe,
Lighting up a glow.

You imagined ghosts
Looking at your both

Digging the trenches
Disturbing their bones.

It’s all in your mind,
Your Uncle Mike said,

They’re all long gone now,
Just think of them dead.