“Nothing stays buried for long”, he said
“Nature abhors secrets.”
The old man made his intentions clear
Accountability would not be borne
On his crooked, arthritic back
On those slouched, uneven shoulders.
I gave a nod, and with a murderer’s rage
I bit the spade tip through the dense peat
And planted the seed, staining the soil
With avarice and malice
The tell-tale stench, reeking, sneaking
From the roll of plastic, the parcel in question.