Poo-poo poetry

There is a faint smell of poop that lingers here.

It makes me suspicious of everyone in my

Immediate surroundings.

But, smells of this kind that persist so…


Must come from a stagnant object and not an asshole.

I proceed to sniff.

The chair. The rug. The shoes. The clothes.

Committed. To find the turd.

No luck.


Published by Mari

I was born with a widow's peak and a thick accent. I majored in English as a second language. I work (marianeladearmas.com) and travel (alittlecubangoesalongway.com) and sometimes do both.

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