In those days
(Of infancy) when one could only wriggle,
One did (wriggle) and scream and froth and
Mother came. Now Mother cometh not,
And here're some lines from Dean Young's "Foam Ode":
My experience with strange suds—
not exactly my first memory
but close, some weird froth
in the gutter, Mommie what is it?
Mother telleth not.
Froth, Mother, cometh, telleth—I have no idea whether Koch's poem was in Young's subconscious mind or his conscious mind, but it had to be in one of them.