FATHER'S STUDY.

A GIRL ENTERS HER FATHER' STUDY.

Don’t go into father’s
Study, Gina, Mother’d
Say. But you do anyway.

Creep in while Mother’s
Busy in the other part of
The house doing chores.

The door is heavy oak
And needs some pushing
Once you’ve managed to

Turn the big key in the lock.  
The door opens with a creak
And there is little light.

You enter and close the
Door behind. The shutters
Are shut allowing only light

Through the thin cracks.
You pull wide the shutters
Of the middle windows

Allowing light to flood
The floor, desk, chair, and
Everything else that’s there.

You wander slowly about
The room taking in the shelves
Of books, the papers on the desk,

The paintings on the walls,
The dead butterfly on the
Windowsill. Red and black

Wings, stiff and still. If Father
Catches you, Gina there will be
Hell to pay, Mother’s words

Echo in your head, as you pick
Up the butterfly and place it in
Your palm, beautiful, but dead.

You breathe softly on the wings,
They flutter gently in your hand,
But no life returns. Last time

Father caught you in the study,
He spanked; in your memory,
The flesh still burns. You place

The butterfly back on the sill
Where it lies motionless still.
The air has the staleness of

Smoke and old books. You
Imagine Father dying here
Amongst the books and stale

Air, his head lying motionless
On his desk like the red and
Black butterfly dead over there.

Time to leave; you’ve seen it
All before: the books, the walls
Of paintings, the papers on the

Desk and the carpeted floor. Time
To go before Father returns with
His fiery eyes and hand that burns.