Poet-in-residence - Switching off the visitors
Prince Charles holds court in her living room.
She asks him, directly, time and again, to leave,
please leave. He lectures on.
Then a young girl makes an announcement,
right there, by the wing-back chair,
and will not shift. It’s not considerate.
The noise at night from those visitors!
There are no manners now. You’d think
at home you would be safe from harm.
Friends phone her at the oddest hours.
She’s just in bed, it’s light:
they ask if she needs bread.
The worst – an unknown woman tracks her
round her home – a frightened face
on the wall, on the wardrobe door.
Her teabags airing by the fire,
the cupboards crammed with cream cakes,
my aunt cannot admit these visitors.
The men in suits pretending
to read the news don’t fool her.
She knows they plan to shut her up, and soon.
Science Museum, February 2008
By Heidi Williamson, our poet-in-residence.
This poem was inspired by the Keeping Your Marbles event on Tuesday 25 March 2008.