The hammer beats in the same place
Forgetting, forgetting, over and over again.
Phone calls ignored, smiles abound
Leaves squeeze between as on a river.
Smells of fresh buds, broken torn roots
Fresh grass, unminted.
But the phone flashes lighting up the ground
It rumbles on top of the pebbles
Don’t you hear the muted voice
Trying to burst into color from the soil?