Consigned to anonymity -
The skeleton of King Richard the Third -
A wrecked oak lying in the undergrowth
The top hacked through by a crude axe
Branches snagged
Caught in the fetid marsh
The last leaf fallen
Even now
The final question has not been ventured -
The most important information
Lodged in the morticians pending tray
His little black box -
We need to know what happened in the Tower
That sultry summer evening
But so far no one has blabbed
Leaning forward to stare into the vortex
The heroic patience of the archaeologists
Certainly impresses
Keeps us on our toes -
But the harsh light of forensic technology
Has yet to guide us closer to the truth
Or laser open an unexpected clue
Crouched down low beside a tangled hedgerow
I watch a single Kestrel swoop and glide
High above the edge of Bosworth Field -
No other signs of life disrupt the landscape -
Irk the mist drenched morning -
Except perhaps a fitful summer breeze
Smudged by hints of woodsmoke
Nudging some nearby thorns
Trevor John Karsavin Potter
August 12th. - 13th. 2013.
March 22nd. - April 22nd. 2015.
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