Mines
Mines
Midwestern boys who once upon a time
Might have mined copper ore now mine bitcoin.
A tossup to say which is worse for us,
Though bitcoins can’t be flipped like pennies can,
Nor pin down the eyelids of the dead.
No matter what it’s made of, money
Heats up the earth. The water diverted
To cool down the servers long ago gave up
Caring whether it runs through canyons
Or coils, like a court messenger who
No longer wonders whether the letter
He carries is about love or beheading.
Meanwhile the boys with glacial-blue eyes
Assuage their guilt by giving tithes
To Greenpeace and Wifi to tribes
Who still pierce their septums
With slivers of bone and ketamine
To girls so beautiful you have to
Look away.