You Can Hear It Go Poem by I.J. Benjamin

you can hear it go
inside a
house
when the water drips down
walls
and the walls are frozen
but not quite,
they're falling in
like wind battered
asphalt
dust

and
even when it's spring
and all is
pink
and little girls run down rose covered
ways
and they bathe and they
swim
in the fresh mountain
springs,
you might never know
but still,
still it goes

so what do you do?
you ignore
and
soon
the plastic is
torn
the family is here,
and it's christmas
and bright lights
are to be
enjoyed

all the while,
though,
it still goes

it's been so
long,
you're tired and
your
bones
ache and your soil,
once rich and black has
turned into
sand
and you wonder
when?
but nothing comes,
only the brown of
the fall,
how moist and
how
cold

and no one runs down
those
alleys, and those
springs
and the girls and those
boys
have long gone,
and you're alone
sitting in a brown chair,
sipping tea
and smoking,
hearing it still
go:

tap
tap
tap

like an old
friend