Seaside Earthquake

Sick of what’s called progress, Earth opened up its shell,

And street cameras, clamps and wardens slithered into hell.

The exorbitant super-loos, the supersonic tucker,

All plastic kissed away with Earth’s tectonic pucker.

The ground feasted fully – topped with a cop car relish –

Then burped up its previous meal, seismically squeamish.

Back came old-style fish and chips, street-sellers’ stirring calls,

Sandcastles with ancient flags, well-tempered herring gulls.

You ask – what of today’s things left deep inside the earth?

They’ll fetch up in the future as tomorrow’s things of worth.

Stuart Larner

This poem was first published by Everydaypoets.com 2014