Archaeologist by Russ Van Rooy

I am anxious
and neurotic.
Uncomfortable within my skin,
I do what I can to hide it from you,
while I pick and pull at the dry, dead surface.
I am an archaeologist,
excavating layers of trivia and drama,
in search of a lost civilization that
may well not exist.
Deep in the basement, among bones and shards,
in hope of finding a lost room,
I recover half-remembered dreams, left abruptly,
the charred remains
of a crime scene from eons past,
a conquered village burnt to the ground.
I sift through the dust to uncover arrowheads and tiger’s teeth,
baby’s rattle and sharp bits of glass,
but no sign of Atlantis or Mu.
I return to the surface to the stark daylight
and adjust my mask.

Russ Van Rooy is a guitarist/songwriter/software tester/armchair philosopher and cosmologist who likes to write poetry. When not contemplating what conditions were like during the first five hundred million years, he can be found making pancakes or playing guitar in his garage.