The Rent Man Cometh (Poetry)

That knock on the door
they all recognise
and jerk to a stop
as though paralysed
no pins dare to drop

such silence hangs raw
breath held in a vice
they crouch on the floor
he knocks harder — twice
expects they’ll ignore

the note he puts through
a warning’s red ink
rent’s way overdue
it’s useless to think
of pleading for more

time to pay — since they
are so church-mouse-poor
no charity box
quite this bare before
still the dread hand knocks ...

Bailiff’s men will come
bust in to evict
so no choice but quit
do a moonlight flit
leave their high-rise slum