ARCHAEOLOGIST




he has the container opened forcing a reluctant

gap: a screeching in the machinery.

the reek, the laughter of garbage.

half-smothered by the fetid breath, the man

with the hook pokes and prods among the rubbish,

and a cloud of mosquitoes greets him.

he doesn’t weaken, he dreams of diamonds,

treasures hidden among the refuse.

and finds in the blackness of the mute sarcophagus

an orphan girl-child, one eyelid askew,

as pretty as a little cake, who looks at him

fearfully, and he plucks her from that foul

cradle and carries her over to the trailer

that waits for articles of sacred origin

with gentle and ceremonious care.