The Extra Room
 
This house contains four flats - the ground floor doubles as a shop -
But no one knows quite why they built an extra room on top.
The other people in our building are a friendly lot:
Beginning with the basement, which they’re using as a squat,
The husband is a burglar and his wife is on the game
(We find them very pleasant and well-mannered, all the same);
The butcher often offers us some cutlets or a chop,
And admits that he is worried by that extra room on top;
Our first-floor neighbours sometimes come to have a drink or two,
Though nervously: “I’d get the council round if I were you.”
We’re on the second floor; our flat is sunny, spacious, airy,
And yet our lives are blighted by a circumstance that’s scary,
For every night, we hear strange sounds from just above our heads:
The screams and groans, the sobs and tears that some poor creature sheds?
And what’s that reddish stuff that stains our ceiling drop by drop?
It’s better not to think about the extra room on top.

Brian Allgar

If you have any comments on this poem, Brian Allgar would be pleased to hear from you.