From Hunter-Gatherers To McDonald’s in 10,000 Years

The archaeologists,
dig in the ground, upside down,
pickers not growing but pulling from the ground,
a palimpsest.
They’ve got their backsides in the air,
sifting for names that still carry resonance.
They look like a pub quiz-team nosing
for truffles.
Scraping through sharp-edged soil with
porcine snouts, gutting for treasure across
plots and sites.

The grass has been peeled back
and the sod has elapsed into a mound
of refuse and waste as the scientists
and professors hack and rake and scratch
over baked clay – striations of ages
wiped bare and clear; walked over
by size 10 para-boots to make sure
there is no delay
and the excavators can get underway.

The billboard winks at the passers-by,
and tells them (with a jolly friar),
what the diggers have managed to find,
how it will be dug and conserved and put on display,
and how (if they ring the 0800) they can buy,
a Luxury Development of 2 Bedroom Homes,
built on the site of an ancient priory,
carefully conserved until the end of next January.

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Posted on July 16, 2013, in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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