I don’t gamble
much, but the mine
struck me as casino-
ish. Nobody ends
up there accidently,
there’s no windows,
there’s no clocks,
every last machine
beeps and flashes,
every last light’s
strategically placed
and in between
it’s unsettling
dark. I saw a bird
underground once,
and a mushroom
under a beltline
that dripped
a chemical composition
evidently nutritious
enough to sustain life.
The whole belt, the whole
supporting structure shakes
constantly, and loudly,
and the wind blows cold
at prescribed speeds
to provide clean air,
so shivering overtakes
other bodily functions,
and your own thoughts
lose meaning against
the grinding like the line
between a darkness
hundreds of feet below
the sun’s furthest reach
and the single beam
from the lamp
on top of your head
until the only
possible thought,
yours, mine, or anyone’s,
turns to, what are we
doing here? Maybe
it’s instinct,
faced with such odds,
to dig in,
to cross your fingers,
to bet whatever’s left.