#15 - No Bricks

I call them
'Socialism via the backdoor'
and leave it at that.
Hateful clods.

Give me a lovely mud hut
or log cabin, the massed pats
of cud-chomping cattle,
a marquee, a glass palace,
a dumpster, a cardboard crawlspace,
a treehouse spackled with heron poo,
reeds threshed into a shelter,
the boot of a Nissan Micra,
a trench, a brolly,
a spare room -
I'm not fussy.
Just spare me the footsoldiers
of Communism. Those bland,
indistinguished grunts
locked together
like sad slabs.