A candid hipshot!

Delft House:

In my sister’s room,
on the shelf above her bed,
sits a small ceramic house.
It is actually a Jenever flask,
and when you shake it
you can feel the alcohol inside, sloshing
like possessions against the walls.

I imagine streets of them hunkered down
as a squadron of clouds passes overhead,
dropping big wet shadows onto the royal blue roofs.
And the occupants,
unable to stem the flow of gin from their taps,
become increasingly helpless
with music, laughter and free love.

What a town this would be, I think
as I hold the house in my palm
and notice first the tall arched windows,
the double doors,
the crudely moulded crucifix crowning the gable.

(Alexander James Allen)

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