National Trust

The door opened and the guide whispered us in

So as not to wake these pampered stones from sleeping

We complied –

Cowed by brass lions

Overcome by intricately carved columns

Hardly daring to step from our shadow

Into gilded light

‘Take no photographs’

I wondered why?

Might each impudent proletarian pixel

Pick away the privilege from these old walls?

Might the old masters be blinded in a flash?

So we shuffled like deep sea divers

Following monotone stories of accumulation

Despite my love of the shape of things, I found myself repelled

This was never a home

It was a machine that enslaved people

Every stone was stolen