Whose
my grandfather
died from black
lung working in
a mine that wasn't
his and now all this
time cautious of the
dark and the damp i
can't seem to find my
own mine so turning
silently i become a
mime and ask you
to understand
my gestures as if
a jester in your
court am trying
to court you by
holding my breath
while holding my
throat throttling
in hopes you
will guess and then
i'll be able to gasp
but your yours
is not mine
and as the batteries
of the sun dim not
sinking just being
less of a beam for
me to follow i stop
and swallow that
last gasp of air
as my ears
clearly hear
the song
dark as a
dungeon
down
in the
mine
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