Childhood by William Anthony Hatchett

The large house was silent and cold
I let myself in with a latchkey.
Rarely chastised, I did what I was told.
There was no lively clamour at tea.
Father made it clear that I
would never meet his expectations.
He never praised or encouraged me.
We spoke ill of our relations –
we preferred it if they stayed away.
We played no part in our community.
We were a middle class family.
We conducted our lives stoically
on our glaciated isthmus
like ice statues, exchanged cards at Christmas.