The New Tutor
Mr Morley sprawls on my father’s chair,
‘It is too hot to work today.’
He smiles sharp teeth. He
My mother flits past. ‘Christopher’-
He tilts the pearl in his left ear.
Languid, half-kind, he smiles at her.
‘Letters were sent,’ my father says,
‘we have the Father coming soon.
This is no place for clever spies.’
‘The boy loves him!’ She
Doors slam. My father shrinks.
that he is old. That
Now I have William. ‘A
his Latin creaks,’ my father says.
‘But he is safe.’ ‘But
my mother snaps. ‘Still,
(Her eyes are red.) ‘Some
– a wife?’
The minutes harden into hours
while William plods through prose.
a joke. My mother
flees. He stares
where her scents drift, with great sad eyes.
His songs are flat; my mother’s, birds.
The Father calls him ‘a good soul’.
I find him, always, lost for words.