US2
for Zachariah
Lying beside me on the mattress
on the floor, my nearly3grandson says,
Grandpa, whydocowshavebells?
1longword in 5rapidfirestaccatos.
Then with barely a grabbedbreath’spause
he answers, Causetheirhornsdon’twork!
It takes me 2heartskips to get it …
And then I laugh, trulyloudlylaugh at
the delightfulunexpected doubleentendre
from this dearestartless calfeyed Boy
of VeryLittleBrain. On my back bellowing
I kick my legs, cyclekick them high,
and he does the same, windmilling
those littlelimbs that must bear him yet
for a lifetime, a lifetime that will last,
pleaseGod, at least a½century beyond mine.
Windingdown, we give the mattress
1lastelbowing with our heels.
Then in the followingcalm he says, Yourturn,
Grandpa. I think … and cannot think …
Grandpa, yourturn! And at his insistence
I judge it’s not the joke but the jointjubilation
that matters. So, unable to do better,
I belabour the bovinetheme:
Why do cows get stuck in holes?
Is it anticipation or (oh goodgreatGod
have mercy on measinner!) adoration
that brightens his grandsunnyface?
Because they don’t have ladders!
It’s not funny. It’s not important.
It’s love. It’s legkicking laughter. It’s us2
unitedandundone for a briefblessedtime
in this lovelylonelyworld we’re travelling through.
Andrew Lansdown