Remember that Saturday morning
Mother forgot the word gull?
We were all awake but still in bed
and she called out, "Hey kids!
What's the name of that bird that eats garbage
and stands around in cold water on the beach?"
And you, the quick one, the youngest daughter
piped right back: "A dirty-billed freeze footy!"
And she laughed till she was weak,
until it hurt her. And you had done it:
reduced our queen to warm and helpless rubble.
And the rest of the day, baking or cleaning
or washing our hair until it squeaked,
whenever she caught sight of you
it would start all over again.