A corpulent guide cuts the damper,
eyes magnified by dense lenses.
He grunts a few greetings and plops
paper plates in a line of laps.
Damper the texture of petrified wood.
Drowned in treacle.
His wife quietly nurses nearby. Meek and aloof.
''Bring the baby over here, Margaret.''
She stands. So tiny. Hair as fine
and red as the dust around her.
Father proudly displays their baby
who appears a few months old.
It has its motheršs shrunken features,
a lump on its forehead - like the father.
Face as doughy as the damper.
Eyes the colour of the hardening treacle.