Take tea and breakfast
to Master George's room,
Dudman the butler had said.
So Polly takes the tray
and slowly opens the door
to his room.
He's asleep,
his eyes closed,
his head turned
towards the windows,
where the curtains
are still drawn
letting in
only a dull morning light.
She lays the tray
on the small table
by the window
and looks over at him;
one of his hands shakes
on the bed cover,
the other out of sight.
She turns and draws back
the curtains slowly
and quietly, and the sunlight
pours in blinding her eyes.
Behind her George Elmore
sits up rigid
as if electrified,
his eyes wide open
staring at the window,
and shouts:
LOOK OUT GYWER.
Polly turns in alarm
and leans back
against the table,
staring at him:
what is it Master George?
she says.
He is shaking;
his hands tremble
at his sides.
She runs to him
and holds him
against her breast.
George what is it?
it's me Polly,
she says,
holding him in her arms,
shaking,
holding him.
His words mumbling:
Gwyer where's Gwyer?
he utters softly,
grabbing her tightly.
Her thoughts are in confusion;
she feels useless,
but holds onto him:
George it's me Polly.
He looks at her,
his eyes distant gazing.
The door opens
and Dudman stands there:
what has happened?
he says,
gazing at her
and then at the man
she is holding:
what happened?
he says again.
He began shouting out
a man's name,
she says,
and he was shaking
and I just grabbed him
to stop him
falling from bed.
Dudman looks at her,
his eyes dark:
lay him back on the bed
this moment and leave;
I’ll have the doctor come,
he says.
He's ill,
she says.
Leave now,
Dudman says.
She lays George down gently;
his hands grab her arms,
his fingers gripping her tight:
where's Gwyer?
he says.
He's resting George, resting,
she says in his ear.
He lies back
and stares at the window,
releasing her arms,
like one letting go of rope
and falling back
into dark seas.
Dudman sighs
and says,
go Perkins please.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 3:38 PM UTC
Take tea and breakfast
to Master George's room,
Dudman the butler had said.
So Polly takes the tray
and slowly opens the door
to his room.
He's asleep,
his eyes closed,
his head turned
towards the windows,
where the curtains
are still drawn
letting in
only a dull morning light.
She lays the tray
on the small table
by the window
and looks over at him;
one of his hands shakes
on the bed cover,
the other out of sight.
She turns and draws back
the curtains slowly
and quietly, and the sunlight
pours in blinding her eyes.
Behind her George Elmore
sits up rigid
as if electrified,
his eyes wide open
staring at the window,
and shouts:
LOOK OUT GYWER.
Polly turns in alarm
and leans back
against the table,
staring at him:
what is it Master George?
she says.
He is shaking;
his hands tremble
at his sides.
She runs to him
and holds him
against her breast.
George what is it?
it's me Polly,
she says,
holding him in her arms,
shaking,
holding him.
His words mumbling:
Gwyer where's Gwyer?
he utters softly,
grabbing her tightly.
Her thoughts are in confusion;
she feels useless,
but holds onto him:
George it's me Polly.
He looks at her,
his eyes distant gazing.
The door opens
and Dudman stands there:
what has happened?
he says,
gazing at her
and then at the man
she is holding:
what happened?
he says again.
He began shouting out
a man's name,
she says,
and he was shaking
and I just grabbed him
to stop him
falling from bed.
Dudman looks at her,
his eyes dark:
lay him back on the bed
this moment and leave;
I’ll have the doctor come,
he says.
He's ill,
she says.
Leave now,
Dudman says.
She lays George down gently;
his hands grab her arms,
his fingers gripping her tight:
where's Gwyer?
he says.
He's resting George, resting,
she says in his ear.
He lies back
and stares at the window,
releasing her arms,
like one letting go of rope
and falling back
into dark seas.
Dudman sighs
and says,
go Perkins please.
