Coalmine
Miner

Accustom to holes
To our scraping earth

The shovel sensitive
The cold shouldering

Power planted
In sinewed stratums

Veins of years
Veins of the coal

The child's father
Piles the black into piles

With the shovel and so
She digs too

The stacked smoke
A mellowed hole

Of the mine as slender
As the awe of division

Jesus her hole
Jesus her country