The seagull is not a seagull It is a swan or a dove or something we do not understand It howls like an exploded vase or like crooked wind Then all the birds fall and rearrange their wings in a diagonal gesture halfway between fast and slow The small black ones (I don’t know their names) cut from each other We notice other signs rats are hiding in the shrubs and a rabbit prances in a circle The child’s narrative makes the world go sideways and generates a feeling that all life is ominous The air does not crackle or warp but we feel it on the verge of some change A sideways hill a song with no singer an inverted ghost It seems that everything is about to revolve and show its other side At home we dry off the dog’s paws and belly We tell the story to one another how the seagull (or the swan) cried out as something changed The clouds the dog the universe & us