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 (who ?)
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