All of You on the Good Earth

Victorian

- 80 Victorian Workmen have gutted the old house next-door. Today, in winter rain, the brick is dark. A tub glows on its side in the garden, And a dryer squats against the fence. More Comes out every day into the yard. They park Their trucks on the curb next to the oven. They tear at sandwiches and blast rock songs From a paint-speckled radio. A washing machine, Rusted at the seams, glistens in thin light. Beyond the train tracks, a radio tower’s long Sliver splits the mist, and its single clean Beacon pulses white. Late day sags with night. I watch the bare lot beyond the phone wire. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here. ...