The mine’s blue eye emptied twenty years ago. We stayed. We married. We climbed into the cabs of our separate machines, & in the black sand socket began to dig. The steam – it looks like steam, peeling off a black cup – is dryer than smoke. We watch it all day. For breaks Jasmine rolls the darts and rattles her lungs at me. My lungs rattle back.  There’s no one else.

The thirtieth of twenty-nine empty dorms is ours. We use the seventh of six closed docks. The thirteenth of twelve sunk barges takes our work. 

When the managers left we unbolted a canteen table, and ever since we’ve eaten where we like. Last month I pierced, at last, the sea-side wall of the open pit. And now we see the ocean while we work.