House of muck and straw and cast brick

by June 27, 2016 0 comments

It was not a dream
though memory says it was.
That house of straw and muck
and cast brick.

Asbestos sheeting cold as ice in winter
and oven hot in summer.
Amplifying the cries of pain.
Rain and wind rattling the eaves.

Fingers of cold weaving
in under corrugations.
Chilling spines of exposed bone
prone bodies shivering on wooden floors

Freezing words unspoken
cold lips, the kiss goodnight. A betrayal
on a soft child cheek.
Too weak to fight that house
Of straw and muck and cast brick.

Of voices raised in pain and rain
flooding in under a green door.
Floors awash with leaves and snapped twigs
lies and broken promises. Deals reneged upon
contracts voided between a demon and a thief.

Bailing fast to stop us sinking.
Thinking it was just the water
pulling us down to drown
in the mire of hate and disappointment
when all along it was us, bad blood
caused the flood.

A deluge of despair in a lair
of broken lives.
A house of straw and muck
and cast brick.

– Dave Kavanagh

editors note:

A story of destruction in a house of bad construction. – mh clay

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