To be, or not

It’s not a dilemma

when I ask of Andrew,

‘Are you loving your dinner?’

Simple and true

‘I am,’ he says

‘I do!’

Today

Of this world

- how come that boy in front is grinning?

I mean this boy – the one we label ‘Down’s’;

the one delighted seeing us here,

who loves to chew more coupled to his food,

who closes eyes when feeling-fully a taste,

who smiles at every folly

with eyes more soft and clear than tears.

Now, as he starts to sing - a hymn -

I’m not sure of the point of any prayer

and I seldom taste my food

or stroll along for the hell-of-it

or stare in wonder any more.

I long to tell you what to do

and long to be told what-to-do by you

- so please instruct intensity!

Shall we chew? Shall we chew? Shall we chew?

Auntie

she had just had her hair done

            pale blossom on a thin stem

when they sat her in a chair

            leaves curled up like roman scrolls

went out to fettle her lunch

            the air in her room, quite cool

she insisted, no, no lunch

            flowers drinking up water

and closing here eyes for sleep

            the coolness perpetrated,

settled into her small chair

with petals nodding from heads

taking penultimate breath

            and summer blew tranquil at last.