The ear of my grandson, lying on his side
asleep in a bed with a fake fur cover
so soft the ear, so tender, so thoughtfully
hearing the soft music from the radio
which is beginning an indoctrination.
Sleep to music, sleep to rain, sweet ear.

My mother’s ear, when she died and after
laid out in the funeral parlour, so fine
so stiff, like a communion wafer
so starched, a worn sheet in the frost
could not compare to it, being too thick.
What sounds had flowed through it, sweet ear.