Just Before Dinner 1961 Poem by Terry Collett

Lizbeth, your mother calls
from downstairs, dinnertime.

You move off the bed where
you have been lying thinking
of Benny, of how to get him
away from the Virgin girl at
school, and get him with you.

You sit on the side of your bed,
remember the time you got
him in this room while your
mother was out, but still he
wouldn't, despite the fact you
were semi undress, and then
your mother came back early,
and you had to pretend you
were just showing him your
record collection. Lizbeth,
your mother calls again, you
get off the bed, go to the tall
boy mirror and tidy your hair
and stand and stare. If only he
had, if you he had that time
on the pew in that church you
got him into, but he wouldn't,
said not in church. Lizbeth,
your mother calls you again.

You open your bedroom door
and go downstairs, COMING,
you call down, your voice loud,
your fingers on the lips drumming.