Gated communities

(An Amityville horror)

When the only sounds in the empty street
come through windows from those not asleep
the timid sighs and children’s cries
unable to overhear the lies
When the moon so long has been gazing down
On the pitiful fate of so many pitiful towns
that her smile becomes a smirk,
that is when he goes to work.

Love for sale, some call it philanthropy, love for sale
Love for money, love of death, completely oiled
to steal your breath, love for sale.
Who will buy?
Who would like a Nobel prize?
Who would be fixed for life?
Sell friend and family for paradise?
Love for sale.

Let TV and Internet broadcast love
in their obsequious way.
He knows every type of love
better far than they.
If you want to kill for love,
a foundation grant or a sinecure,
on your knees for hard love,
kissing hands, whipped for sure.
Every love, but true love.
Love for sale.

Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is also the author of Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..