Guilty Pleasure

It’s fashionable now to say
that guilty pleasures don’t exist.
It’s all just snobbery at play
to feel shame for a reading list.
 
But if I’m honest I can’t say
that I’m too proud of my taste,
when it comes to Dennis Wheatley or
the sort of lit I like between
 
the denser, smarter, more liberal fare.
The Laymons and the Christies and
the sort of pulp that lines my lair.
They might be as cheap as a roll in the sand,
 
but man doesn’t live by virtue alone,
and pleasure’s a part of our seeking the throne.