My Emily-how she will howl
about a flower and one bee -
the sting she loves-the revelry
she has alone-since she is bad -
bad Emily - with her flower.

I will take her on my knee and sing
softly a lullaby and watch
her wild eyes try to focus
as she secretes around her gums.

So here she comes - already nude -
as pink as she can be - a girl
the midwife says and slaps her butt
so hard we still can hear her roar.