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i'm going to smile
when i go there tomorrow
and they're going to smile at me.
then after nine hours
we'll all go home
and stop worrying
about the wind changing.
we wrung out the earth
and what was left in six days
then laid up knocked out by
the swift precision of the work.
soon it revealed
all that came up was empty.
we dug deeper and harder,
so deep and hard we thought
we'd forced the sun up yelping.
it climbed on us, remorseless.
gleaming off the machines backs
whilst they fed the soil
mile after mile of wire and mortar.
still nothing came up.
man again found himself
a stranger in a strange land.
the sun glossing off his inventions,
piled to the clouds.
never high enough to help
him escape for a second exodus.
to the men and women
who run this all
we will not be forgiving
when the time comes.
Tom says, "I am twenty five years old and live in London, England. In the little time I have left between selling furniture and living I write and read poetry. I have only briefly begun submitting work. In that time I have been published on identitytheory.com and shortly will appear in nthposition.com."