Undone

You sit there in front
of the fire, lotus style,
wrapping your newly long and slender
legs around themselves like seaweed
tangled into a knot.

You laugh and show me how “the boys”

sit this way at school and then pretend
they’re unable to unlace themselves,
having to move about like penguins
on their knees, wobbling.

I ask how your teacher likes this silly stuff
and you ignore my sobriety, squealing,
even when I warn you about the table’s
proximity to your wildly reeling head.

Legs still pretzled, you roll back boldly,
displaying yellow underpants and
baby fattened belly,
your nightgown falling into a mask.

Muffled through flannel, your voice

feigns helplessness, “undo me Mama!”
though I am already undone.

I lift you in position

and bring the ball of you
to my lap for straightening.
Those legs, long as my arm now
and soft, so soft.