Breaking Into Dreams 1916 Poem by Terry Collett

Polly lies on
George's bed,
eyes closed,
feeling the mattress
beneath her,
trying to imagine
George there beside her,
or better still
on top of her,
as he was that last night
before he went back
to the Front and war.

She tries to pretend
he is kissing her,
touching her,
impregnating her
with his upper-class seed.

She holds herself,
embraces her body
with her own hands,

What you doing Polly?
Susie Simmons says.

Polly opens her eyes,
and leaps from the bed.

Frightened the bloody life
of out me,
you silly cow,
Polly says,
grabbing hold
of Susie's maid's uniform.

Sorry,
Susie says,
Gripe asked me
to see where you were;
what was you doing
lying on Master George bed?


Never you mind
what I was doing,
what the heck do
you think you were
doing making me
nigh wet myself?
Polly releases Susie's
uniform and tidies
her own hair,
and brushes down
her uniform.

Was you thinking of him?
Susie says.

What's it to you
if I were?

Nothing just asking,
Susie says.

Well let's get back
to Gripe
and see what she wants,
Polly says.

Susie nods and leaves
the room,
and Polly gives
a last look back
at the room and bed,
and keeps the memories
of him and her
in her head.