A Gentleman's Sonnet

• Natasha King, Grade 12
• Poetry
• 2010

The place is run down, but they barely even notice it
The peeling of the plaster doesn’t concern lonely eyes
In worn out cold crevices, in pages of the bible
rotting in the drawer, they leave their other lives behind

The wallpaper frowns, but absorbs the esoteric chill
The carpet creaks under foot with the weight of what it’s seen
The lamp loses brightness in flickers, to dust away truth
as the mites do on the bedposts and between the very seams

the bole door does its best to help, and keep the sounds within
The buzzing toilet bowl is technically malarial
In an abandoned cupboard, a moulding mini-fridge hums
in harmony with the TV and its lost aerial

The place is run down, but they barely even notice it
Lonely eyes see opportunity, instead of filth- sin
is relative when money’s involved, so take off your coat
This place welcomes you, darling, dear, so please won’t you come in?

There are no words to describe it, nothing truly compares
And poetry is too sneaky to give the game away