The aunt I never knew
is buried somewhere here.
Why here, I do not know, nor if
her family ever knew the plot.
It was a hasty burial.
Unmarked, her tiny grave belies
the grave unravelling beyond her death.
A few hours' life, and she was dead.
Mishap, malpractice or madness?
Manslaughter, they said, and found
my grandma guilty
of her daughter's death.
I read the trial brief. I found
no evidence for this.
But questions drift back
and are lost in the past.
Discrepancies of time,
hints of professional blunders
My grandma didn't hang.
her children and their children.
The gentlest of women,
timid creatures lost all fear with her,
like a baby in her arms.