Archaeopteryx

Quarry workmen slice open the past,
pry limestone chunks with picks, 
shave each delicate layer 
with a chisel and a sledge. 
Sometimes they are rewarded 
with the memory of a bird 
leaping from the stone. 
They do not lean or strain 
forward as if expecting a squawk 
from the meticulous slab. 
They barely notice 
the preserved minutiae of scales 
and of fine veins 
which lace the feathers. 

Bones fallen 
into random angles. 
A gaping beak in a grimace, 
baring teeth, anachronistic 
in the silt, a rictus whispering 
across millions of years. 

With its head bent back, 
wings and legs akimbo, 
it is a dancer fallen 
from a great height. 
Fallen out of a dim past, 
like some mythical fish 
which circumvents turbulent water,
choosing instead to evaporate 
and ride dark clouds back 
to the spawning grounds.