deconstruct a house?
first they take out the soft things
the sofas and beds
the carpet and curtains
then they strip it of colour
peel off the paper
blast the paint away
Boarding up the windows is next
when they batter pine against the walls
in criss-cross patterns
and then they let the second floor settle
in a cloud of dust into the first
all at the touch of the detonate
and then we walk away
i watched your face
the lips go hard
the cheeks pale
eyes close
and then collapse
when you heard the news
i hated him for walking away.
1 comment:
i'd never thought of it like that before. you have such a good eye for observing such things. and i like being able to understand this poem. and the title is good. cos breaking something always makes something, be it a pile of wood and nails or an ice sculpture (a broken block of ice). make something out of the pieces of pine (i never knew you could batter pine over something either - pure brilliance, i must try that on my fish)and nails and dust(and no, a fortress of solitude is not acceptable)and paint it and make it soft. cos the fun is in the making as well as in the inhabiting.
Still, a good poem. and i like the last line too. i especially like how it's past tense. you're so good at imagining scenarios and conveying the emotions that you imagine you'd experience in them
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