He hoped to keep the mortar sturdy

He hoped to keep the mortar sturdy

The surveyor was sleeping;
eyes mansard, mouth gabled,
snores monopitch.

He dreamt he built a house on a cliff-face
and every morning woke early to offer gifts to the sea
of kitchen towels, hairbrushes and cutlery.
.
When he woke, he told his wife
about how he had checked for leaks,
how he had knuckled the North wall and asked if it was fake.

He told her how the house replied, in that sighing way that houses have,
that the house had cried and asked only why
the sashes itched it’s plain plate cheeks.

She turned her bargeboard shoulder over
and in a blink reminded him their roof was safe,
that love could live in a lean-to.