I have been trying to mine you,

but you are not a quarry.
You tell me there is nothing in you

but coal

seams beneath the surface

that might burn for millions of years

if lit.
Throw away the halogens and the

rat-a-tat-tack

of mechanised drills.

Use your hands.
Dig for the gem inside you

carry out the rocks and debris

falling in and blocking all the tunnels.
Rip your nails and cut your teeth

callous your fingers and push

upwards.
Let the light in,

or don’t.
Our caves are what we make of them.
Our ribcages can’t be homes for other people

but I know that where there is pressure,

there are diamonds.