Sunshine coastal auction

Sunshine coastal auction

What of this house

With its jerry-built construction

A clapboard storied money-pit

Barely old enough to vote

Filled and painted bodywork

Prettied up like an old Ford

Or Holden

Almost good to look at

If you squint

In the half-light

But burning oil and full of rust

Not old enough to be ancient

Or pretty enough to be classic

Weeds growing out of eye line

In the guttering

Where the pigeons

Bill and coo

Paint peeling from fixtures

Hidden by an overhang

Of bougainvillaea

A much loved flower

With its echo of Greek tragedy

Essence of Homer

What tales they tell

A weathered wooden

Wall an Achilles heel

To usher the whole house down

As the doorknob shines

The front door gleams

With beeswax polishing

Away the marks of wear

A mirrored surface

All but free of blemish

Welcoming the sunrise

Reflecting the glow

Of morning, fresh-cut grass

Frangipani with its roots

In Italy

Growing regally in Australia

All must be well

In the garden

Of good and evil

As the air smells sweet

With a scent of excitement

The call of the auctioneer

A vision of a new-build

Pre-imposed

Upon the ruined walls

No need for sentiment

It is just the modern way

Built-in obsolescence

When bricks and mortar

Are just a temporary solution

To a crisis of identity

A country caught between

Two worlds

Of competing value

The old and the new

Teardown, rebuild

Teardown

Somewhere soon we will find

Our Xanadu