fort
Christopher Lloyd
the child is alone
in a house lit by thunder
only in the presence of someone
baby cries in the cot
it is a joy to be hidden
a teddy lost down the side
but a disaster
of its fortda-
not to be found
dad is there watching
cotton reel unspool
a man who has been
as she mends the bear’s arm
the indisputable favourite
baby watches
his mother
she is nothing
keeps for life the feeling
gone she says smiling
of a conqueror
no here it is good as new
