I think of all those dark
timbers revealed
in the damp, dripping
square of Flag Fen:

the sinister causeway
a family tree
that endures beneath
our flat screen lives,

our futile speeddating
fertility
quest, a huddle
of lost responsibilities.

We look back through
the surface they believed
was the way in
to a better world –

the sacrifices, broken
implements, battlefield
trophies, the lines
of splintered promises,

invisible and unable to
survive once exposed.
Slowly eaten by sugars,
they will dry out

and die under the glare
of children powered by
a new electricity
generated where the

causeway is pointed
that charges their phones,
their games, their pods
as they drop into the darkness.