Exhumed Conscience

We excavate bones
like arrowheads and pottery.
Gravestones are studied
like encyclopedias,
dusted off and shelved
for public perusal.

In Europe,
picks delve into the thighs
of the Iceman,
searching for truth,
getting under his skin,
pounding it out of his bones.
"Incredibly intact," they said.
All, that is, but his privacy,
his castrated body on public display.

We claim rights
to these ancient lives,
our shovels and picks scratching out
contracts on tablets of earth.