psalm to the john

i enter, feet bare in deference to the purity
of your hallowed hall
___cool tile taj mahal
___no mecca to the masses
retreating to the temple of privacy
that closes with a knob
___immaculate throne
___no nest of two-cent paper
leaving me absolved with ankles unexposed
i may be cleansed of sin in your basin
free of toothpaste desecration
___slick belly
___no concave collector of foreign hairs
and the sabbath prayers i hurl
to the porcelain god turn to songs
of praise on not finding his omnipotence
___in a communal bathroom


This is my praise poem. I feel like this is one of those times when I'm either really right or really, really wrong. But it's also one of those times when I'm willing to risk it.

Also, I have no idea why it won't let me indent, but it won't . . . hence the underlining of blank space. Whatevs.