“Reports from a Toilet that Doth Not Flush”

“Reports from a Toilet that Doth Not Flush,”

nor is, not quaint,

quilted patterns so judicious

Chez patterns and cadences and cadenzas

working the Teutonic rail

heading off to the wood to carry rifle

marring the little woman, Obey

the little woman prays

the little woman does

what she Eastern Euro should,

her cousins stare at me

or pretend to know nothing

hollowed shadows

and rumblings of a four thousand year old language

the salted beard, the bushy thread

the naked stone

the Lebanese cypress never showering needle

look at sky!

find mocking bird and jay in all blackened and blue

cacophony

the 21st century for me in such ancient age,

holds me, holds me rigid for what I was

and that was far too long ago

tome and chapter,

prey to the dusty page,

pray to the altar of lead vault and legacy

the preservation of fault,

the ceramic inward-ness

the beauty–nay the beauty of the flush