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Your House on the Hill
the sirocco hammers at your house
forces itself in
an architect once told you
your house is like an old rowing boat
it rattles and shakes when the neighbour
who you say isn’t really Spanish
clumps with heavy feet across the floor
you say the house is going to fall down
you sometimes dream the house has caught fire
and wake up at night to listen for the fire engine
it smells damp in your house
the stairs creak and groan
when your father comes down
you’re glad no-one is there to see him
he bounces from step to step in such a lively way
the house creaks and cracks
you suspect it’s built on sand
and the thought puts you in a bad mood
but your house stands on rock and always has done
it gets older
outlasting
a civil war
grandparents, five generals, one
dictator, a bunch of presidents and
a king who often came past
on his way to see his mistress
and when a dusty pane in the front door cracks
you don’t say
it’s the beginning of the end
you just go on
contentedly
talking
in your white house
where the sirocco beats
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