Max Durdy is in the second year of his degree in English with Creative Writing.

Staring at skeletons.

Poor kid. He fell

down a well. They dug him up,

preserving him for us to

gawp at. Had he slipped,

or had he been pushed?

Does anyone care?


I bet he didn’t think it would end                                                               

like this. Your life, what you

could have, should have, accomplished

forgotten. No, it’s your bones

we’re interested in. Not you.

Never you.


Their armour and weapons displayed

like aisles of toys. Their lives

summarised like a history lesson;

like an order from a fast food restaurant.

Would you like fries with that?


In a thousand years, the sword

will be replaced by the ipad.

‘Daddy, what’s that?’                  

‘Some kind of communication device.’


The bones of the kid were well preserved.

In hundreds of years, we’ll be

behind these glass shields, waiting to

break free.