Sonnet 319 (F73)
How will he respond to the new voices
Reaching through the chaos in the background
Asking if he’s ready to make the choice
To come to the chair and sit himself down?
Will his soundless gestures be understood
When he senses his bladder releasing
While his morning aide rhythmically spoons food
To a mouth that never seems to be pleased?
Will someone see any ache in his heart
That moment my steps pass beyond the door
To breathe in the first breath of life apart
Filling my chest, yet empty to the core?
The best of myself, now lost and behind
Held fast by my thirdborn’s unfinished mind.
(Intellectual Development Disorder)