Winter

Big smelly bowel movements this blue January morning.

From the living room TV, a commercial from our TV company: We’re the fastest, the only — 

Meaning, Love us above all others.

What makes poop more pungent on certain days?

A question for science.

From the living room TV: the powerful cite Law, bark Order — 

Meaning, Love us or else.

Years ago, a teacher said never to use the word “poop” in a poem.

Today, the icy kiss of the toilet seat wakes me up.

Today, I poop while my boyfriend shouts from the living room, 
Did you hear that, meaning the atomic scientists who say we are now two & a half minutes to midnight.

But still I marvel whenever poop comes out as one true Platonic tube.

I am trying to be marvelous.

& to make my enemies throw up.

I mean, if you shower with soap & eat well, maintaining consistent gastrointestinal health, you should be ready for a rimjob or other forms of anal play.

My boyfriend & I are not platonic.

From the TV: a white supremacist cites Science, barks Two sides to every —

I mean, up the throat, out the mouth: the fastest, the only way the powerful will let go of their shit.

I mean, my boyfriend & I are not into scat but if you are I hope your beloved produces the most fragrant, citrusy shit.

I mean, is “shit” more or less literary than “poop”?

I mean, one winter night I got sick & pooped the bed.

& he just got up with me.

Helped strip the sheets, carry it all to the washer.

I kept saying, I’m so sorry, shivering, I’m so, I’m sorry. But he said, What? Hey. I love you.

Source: Poetry (July/August 2017)