In darkened caverns that are damp and cold,
blind, mutant spiders weave a silken mesh
around Neanderthal bones, stripped of flesh;
and, in a crevice, a still grinning skull
(however many millions of years old)
from which a compliment (however small)
of brains, like melting lard or butter, spilled.
Symbols---scraped on to one, smoothed granite wall,
by clumsy hands in an inchoate scrawl---
tell us (in past, present, or future tense?)
that what they have to say makes no real sense.
This travesty did not, for long, drag on---
supplanted by more verbose Cro-Magnon,
whose destiny was much better fulfilled.
Starward