When We Are Discovered

by April 2, 2013 0 comments

all rust-golds and talc-whites,
colors growing while the sun
drops west of their structures,
sets to glowing the stone
stairs circling a pit of toxic
water from which, perhaps, gods
rose to judge believers
who dug copper rocks from
scarred edges of the open
xxxxxxwhere once there
must have been a hillside
rife with green, this people
carved a hole in the earth,
rolled armfuls of dirt away,
aching with the toil of
destruction and worship—
what gods did they find
here in the ground,
what idols did they admire
in this place they named
a mine?

editors note:

Where we dig, aptly named “mine,” as in, “not yours,” is not  ours, either. The gods giggle. – mh

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