work-in-progress:
I rose from this earth without knowing what I was rising from and when I returned, the iron in my blood pulling me to ore, the noise of a blast knocked me from my shoes. Know that I would dig down with my mouth if you let me. Know that I long for dark dirt under my nails, that pressure in my hands. I can feel it, now. Trust in the tunnels, my father told me. Beyond everything we’ve even known there’s more.
I follow the heat, the liquid core at the center of the world like the liquid at the center of all of us, beating against the tunnels of our blood.
Don’t say that I am drunk. Don’t say that I’m going the wrong way through this city. I know which tunnels lead to mainland and which to islands, and I know always to move away from an island. They drift. And when the tunnel leads the wrong way it leads to a bridge.
You know what rivers do? They take the metal away from us, wear down rocks. I went to the bridge the other day, so proud of itself, curving its spine above the river – how did I, a miner, find this city? I’ve told you already. Tunnels. And wealth. You want gold then you belong here. I dreamed the other day that the river was filled with dark pebbles and I knew that within the pebbles were gold and when I jumped off the bridge towards the river I floated down, the clouds became torn handkerchiefs, but the falling was too slow and I could not reach the river. A jellyfish formed, all circles upon circles, tentacles reaching for shore.
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