Haul.

4 May 2016

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.

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