Attack on Homeliness

In brief times of domestic peace,
The sharpest raid on homeliness
Filters in from foes forgotten,
Who steal, despite a poisoned defeat,
The immediacy of homely air,
Unhomely made by stench of death
Of sewer rats in lofty corners,
Which can’t be reached direct without
Raising ghosts of webs and dust
From stacked remains of homely things,
Once used and useful, but no more.

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