How to lay a mine

You clear the shallow earth away

bring your long rock-drill to the rock

and all morning long you beat it down while

the steel of its head and the steel of your sledge flow flakes, grows burning hot

and your mate the shaker perpetually turns the drill

From time to time he pours water down and brings up the dust

in the form of grey mud

and from time to time the drill jams but these are details.

At last the hole is deep enough

You take a stick of dynamite a malleable sausage of dynamite

thrust a long capped fuse into its body

and so right down the hole

followed by others, tamped carefully home

carefully, since at this point the future is uncertain and a spark

may scatter you and the shaker abroad

Earth over all, tamped harder still

the end of the fuse left free, an odd black stalk in the bareness

You fray the tip, set light to it, and as the sparks fly free

hissing, you walk off to watch the smoke at a distance.

There is no going back: it is all inevitable now, even

if a child or a chalice were sitting on the mine.

The smoke vanishes for now the flame bores underground

and the future is determinate: a false future, a kind of bastard present.

But the present is not with you yet

past and future confused and still this silence.

The earth leaps, rocks hurtle up black against the sky

a deadly hail of stone comes beating down

in the same moment you hear the boom of the explosion

smoke drifts from the gaping hole

present and future join; time runs orderly again.