Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 27, 2026

Mummy

The arid desert left me parched
I tried to find a spot that was cool
I went down a wooden ladder
I found the shade refreshing

A light pulled me deeper into the earth
Man had been here for centuries
Wood lined the pathway
I continued as I was called somehow

The archeologist was muttering
I walked behind him
My breath left my body
As I looked at the past

Engraved in my mind forever
The tattered remains of someone
Unknown freshly found
A carefully hidden mummy.

13 May 2005
More by Lydia Manx → More poetry → Full issue →
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