Spring 2009

Table of Contents - Vol. V, No. 1


Poetry     Interview     Translations     Fiction     Book Reviews

Ray Templeton



He bought a doll-size version of his own house,
had it custom-built according to his measurements,
his meticulous observations. Then he set about
its decoration – the colour of the walls,

carpet patterns, kitchen fittings, furniture,
bathroom suite. On tables, he put tiny cups and saucers,
carefully chosen; cut clothes from fabrics tracked down
over time, and hung them in the wardrobes,

always slightly open, as if just lately left that way.
He wired it up from ground floor to the attic, so that
wall lights and table lamps all worked:
adjusted through the day, turned off at night.

Coloured cellophane warmed the fireplace,
a small receiver played Radio Four.
Beside a baby baby-grand piano, he placed
a music stand; from time to time he’d turn the pages.

He kept it covered over, in a shed they never visited.
If they’d seen it, they’d have recognised
their house but they’d have understood
from every detail, that this was not their home.


© Ray Templeton



Poetry     Interview     Translations     Fiction     Book Reviews

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