I filled the cabinet above the toilet
with rows of loo rolls—three-ply,
enriched with lotion and fragrance;
it is the perfect elegant paper,
or at least that’s what the description
on the back of the packaging says.
Quite the frippery for a derrière—
even one as fine as a poet’s.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
Unlike family evenings or passionate nights,
early mornings have rather poor patronage,
even if toned down with a cantrip of cuppa
spiked with a generous spoonful of saccharin
served by the saucy, pedantic wretch of ours
brazenly peeping through the open curtain.
I knew it was a fool’s play inventing words
that are not real, like ‘forever’ and ‘enough’,
but I never imagined you would actually burn
the dictionary—though I suppose that’s expected
when you consort with an arsonist—and leave
the kitchen table to grow somewhat too ample
for one measly setting at dawn.
