your son walks the path you laid
decades of good, hard work
foundations hammered
miles into your earth
coils of tripwire for him
to knife your edge
years into your skin
I glimpse a quarry
so knifed, dropping still deeper
a marvel of engineering
but it’s a jungle of crying, stinging
things down there
hauntings where women eat their cries
men punch holes in their dark
climb your scaffold
find daylight
your son chases your light
glimmers too early from that grimy pub
come afternoon pulls him from his Hilux
sleep walks him inside to that slip
of a girl behind the counter
smiling her detonator smile
and your daughter-in-law
with her tightwired smile waits
until your son, filled to the brim,
and always empty
returns to excavate your depths still further,
deeper than you could ever have imagined.
