The Dig

Blow the dust of history off our bones. 
In the excavated ribs of ancient sailing ships
find the burial chambers of kings.
 
Blow the dust of history off our bones.
In the dig just below them,  but just over 
the rubble of the blitz are the 
cracks in the golden cathedral’s dome.

Blow the dust of history off our bones.
Hear the cough of the newborn that 
ends unknown years later to the last ahem.

Blow the dust off history off our bones.
In the oil that bubbles up see the 
trilobites, dinosaurs layered in the sludge.

Blow the dust of history of our bones.
Place the femur of all  misery neatly 
on the museum shelf for all to see.