The living are constantly digging us up for forensic purposes,
to discover where things went wrong, for them, not us.
They haul us out of the grave when we are chatting

with neighbours, eavesdropping on visitors above, or in a deep
sleep. This can happen when they are on the loo
or have just finished sex; most often we are dragged

in front of the family and told how badly we let them down
or how poorly we brought them up.
When they are done, we make our way back to lie

in our graves and wait in turn for the grave-digger
to shovel the soil back on us, and ask him
to pack it hard, really hard, like cement.