NAMELESS

We buried her
before we named her.

They took her from
the warm womb
with medical precision
for thirty rands.

Buried her that night
wrapped in newspaper
in a ‘drink-fresh-orange’
paper bag
dug a little way
into the soft soil
covering with grasstuffed
sods and twigs.

These heaved silently.
I heard them.

I heard her too.
Crying out.
Small life – without voice
Small life – without breath

crying out.