My Mother Says

by Cynthia Buell Thomas

Tuesday 7th January 2014 12:21 pm (first posted Wednesday 11th December 2013 12:39 pm)

He stomped into the small lounge

deliberately

and dropped his school kit on the floor

beside the tutoring table.

He eyed the lace doily

snack glass of apple juice

silver muffin wrapper glinting

with multicoloured SKITTLES.

Without a word he sat

took a sip of juice and licked his lips

toyed with choosing the best candy for first

burst of pre-lesson flavour.

He pulled the Math paper into place

reaching for a pencil scorning the rubber.

‘Bit of a hard day at school?’

No answer. He didn’t look up.

‘There are three examples to work

like the ones on your school test

that you squashed with big black X’s.

This is a test for me.

I need to understand where you are

having trouble sorting things out.

Do the best you can so that

I can do the best I can.’

The pencil flew. ‘That is excellent.’

The pencil flew again. ‘Well done.’

Across his completed work he laid the pencil

neatly, like the figures of his computations.

He looked up

his dark eyes bruised with misery.

‘My mother says

I am just my father’s sperm.’

Cynthia Buell Thomas

Comments

Lynn Dye

Wed 11th Dec 2013 17:37

I love this poem, Cynthia - it is so poignant and true and well written.

Laura Taylor

Wed 11th Dec 2013 16:48

Very moving poem Cynthia, with a lovely balance of the structure and discipline of the tutor and the damage and poignancy within the boy.

I would imagine there might be a fair bit of 'disclosure', for want of a better word, when you are tutoring kids who do actually need more attention paid to them, as they are struggling elsewhere in their lives. I was a classic underachiever in school.

I saw the initial blog btw this morning, and came back to comment, and see you have made the changes. Great stuff.

Isobel

Wed 11th Dec 2013 15:43

I'm glad you've put it to paper, Cynthia. Something like that would haunt me too. It's a strange thing this poetry business - it does allow you to exorcise stuff that otherwise would lay there - as if in some way you're making amends, by drawing attention to it.

Cynthia Buell Thomas

Wed 11th Dec 2013 13:12

Isobel, thank you so much. This is barely 'just finished', a couple of days only. I don't often post so quickly. Your comments are excellent and are now incorporated. This has been a work of the heart, on my mind for a long time.

Isobel

Wed 11th Dec 2013 12:54

Oh - this is so sad Cynthia - but excellently portrayed - I can see the picture so clearly in my head.

If you were looking for any form of critique on it, I think I'd make it clearer somewhere that you are not the mother - I'm presuming that you are a tutor - perhaps you could say 'beside the tutor's table'?

I'd also get rid of some of the capital letters at the beginning of sentences, particularly in the verse which is all speech.

Finally, and I don't know quite why, for me it would work better if it was all reported in present tense - it would make it more immediate somehow.

I love the way the end ties in with the title - it's a poem with a punch!

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My Mother Says

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