Confessional

“Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes
on Thee
And I’ll forgive Thy great big
one on me.”     Robert Frost

Toilet-Paper-Art

Today I used a piece of toilet paper––
so ingenious how the squares are perforated––
as a bookmark.

I marked the beginning
of a story in a journal
I pretended to mean to read soon.

My pretensions in the bathroom
are no more elaborate, I’d guess, than those of any other,
so why don’t we confess them, even to ourselves?

Confessionals are outfitted nowadays
with porcelain appliances, brass fixtures,
marble vanities with stacks of prayers in paperback––

(we futilely pray no one presumes these rituals
of bargaining our way out of bondage
to repugnant functions)––

to function as the ultimate ruse.
For no sleight-of-hand swipe performed
(however carefully) with unrolled, folded squares,

nor the most careful illusions of luxury
contrived of bodacious poses above prodigal devices,
will lessen the strain of such unnatural squatting.

Nature will still call from night’s drawn curtain,
beckoning us to the primal business

of dangling truth.

bidet kitty

4 thoughts on “Confessional

    • I am so glad you approve 🙂
      I sometimes toe the line a little bit; sometimes I trip over it!
      Check out my Poetry Samples under the About parent page (just figured out how to do that!). If you like this poem, you might enjoy “Sea Bunnies,” as well… Or, it might really offend you… Lol!
      In any case, thanks for commenting! I look forward to checking our your blog, too!

      Yours, Steph

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Well this brings to mind a couple of Andy Warhol quotes:
    1. There is beauty in everything, just not everybody sees it.
    2. You need to let the little things that would ordinarily bore you, suddenly thrill you
    Who knew toilet paper could launch such beautiful poetry? Then again, why not? Some regal ideas are born on the throne; sometimes just a pile of crap!
    Seriously, though, I love your turn of phrase … and also that you could well have opened up a debate: to fold or to scrunch?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. You’ve honored (and amused!) me with the time you took to read, think about, and reply to this little ditty. The original inspiration did happen on the throne while I did exactly what I said I did in the first stanza — which compelled the “poetic” part of me to question the action, and resulted in the specimen above (the fact that I found corresponding art on Google Images well after the fact seems more than serendipitous!).
    So, yes, this thing is about questioning the motives behind our actions, rituals, pretenses, willingness to remain subject to existential guilt/shame for who we are (and whether it’s valid to feel that way)…
    In other words, TO FOLD OR TO SCRUNCH — THAT IS THE QUESTION: WHETHER ‘TIS NOBLER IN THE MIND TO SUFFER (…) THE HEARTACHE, AND THE THOUSAND NATURAL SHOCKS, THAT FLESH IS HEIR TO…?
    Some of us never even become conscious of the question; some of us do, but never dare attempt to answer it (out of sheer fear of the unknown, or of the possibility that the punitive consequences society/moralistic influences threaten for doing so might come to pass…) — for my part, I think I would at least rather die trying to make the life I do know something other than a living death, ya know?

    Thank you for meeting me in the dark depths of Nature’s mortal mystery, and joining me in the (noble? necessary? neither/both?) quest for Truth… 😉

    Like

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