One Raised Eyebrow

‘Brian and I have made a List’
‘You have? And Brian the rabbit?’
‘Yes’
And mother, one eyebrow raised,
Said:
‘Really? It’s not your birthday
Or Brian’s?’
‘You know Brian’s birthday?’
‘Of course’

At that revelation, George was further
Puzzled at the cunning of adults
And almost forgot the List
Screwed up in his right hand, and
The pencil balanced behind his ear,
But it fell to the floor.
Then he remembered
‘Well…you make lists’
‘Yes’
‘And so does Daddy’

‘He does?’
Up went the eyebrow once more.
Ignoring that question,
Which somehow
Didn’t feel like a question,
He handed over the List.
Glasses on for close inspection,
His mother read it out loud.
Some of the letters were
The wrong way round…

‘A list of body noises?’
She said, removing her glasses.
‘Anthony can roll his Rs, but he can’t do the woodpigeon
Murray makes fart noises with his armpit - like this…’
But it didn’t work.
But when his mother did it, it did!
George’s mouth failed to close
For at least a week
But open as it was, he practiced
Popping with his forefinger

The week passed with
Failure upon failure upon failure
But at tea on Thursday
His mother had invited Murray
And Anthony.
It was an unusual evening
And not all noises had been
Mastered
But when his father,
The one with the secret lists,

Arrived sounding like
A horse, his shaking cheeks
Flapping in an invisible wind,
Pudding was postponed.
Priorities are priorities,
After all
And a List has to be
Recognised for what it is
A heart written in words
With unstoppable fire