The Friday Poem on 02/12/22
We chose ‘The Lego House’ by Alexandra Masters to be our Friday Poem this week. Masters paints an impressionistic and discomfiting picture of a world where we are not quite sure what is human and what is Lego, what is actually happening and what is merely imagined. The neat blocks of happiness may be briefly seductive but there’s an underlying threat — plastic invades nature, a smile feels menacing, and a bruise develops in a perfect circle. We relish Masters’ skill in creating an atmosphere which is surreal, ominous and compelling.
The Lego House
Number 27 have demolished their history.
From the soft gloom of my kitchen I see whistling
men bore the skies with Acrylonitrile,
invade the flight-path of wrens
with neat blocks of happiness.
plastic roofing gloats over my caddy of skins, rotting.
Primary colours disturb long stirrings of tea.
She hangs stiff washing without swearing,
her hair windless now.
I feel something crawl inside as I spy him reading.
See his yellow-spanner hand in the bathroom,
She will order make-up online to hide
the perfect circle on her eye.