Was everybody scared?
Mum was, certainly.
Slip-clinging hold, respectability.
World-lost, he didn’t care,
Or didn’t cotton on.
He once broke out, performing memorably:
Reckless, and with aplomb.
Turning their stomachs;
Master-class for me in how to flummox
Guests: it was The Visit.
Scented and Sunday-clad,
– Teacups four-high, stacked,
And then paraded like a circus act –
Mother pronounced him mad.
The moment passed.
The next time tumbled everything amassed;
Her judgment, prophecy.
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