The Miner's Wife

what would one of those workers find

on a day in the life?

those heat workers; working

the canyons and this land,

like, our hips when we walk

and our jaws when we talk.

laboring day in, day out

while sediment, an unsupervised teen,

sneaks its way into the canyons

of their faces. dust and dirt

working their way into clothes.

grit working its way into homes

and marriages, scrubbing them

apart. 

i knew what i came to you for.

i was seeking the kingdom,

forgetting that i too was a job

for these men to excavate.

what precious jewels will they

find in my canyons?

those aged vessels that carry

pints and pints of blood and

cc’s of hormones. which built

up? deposited themselves as

rubies or emeralds for my brain

to feed on?

I am a tall tower. a showstopper.

a great fucking mountain.

I am the eighth wonder of the world

and man has been mining me

for centuries in hopes that they

could name these rarities.

commodify this solitaire.

make me into currency.