Life of a Diaper
The water pours into the tub.
I am buoyant, and know
the gentle churning of redemption
will soon begin.
Then tumbling, spinning and tumbling
in sunken-desert winds until
finally, relaxed, I rest
and await the tender female hands,
and my enfolding...
No, not again!
Of a sudden I am seized and
thrust onto the bare bottom of reality,
pierced with skewers, to capture and contain
the sins of the world,
soiled and humbled.
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Goodbye Soap
For five years their son
worked at the soap factory—
so in five years they hadn’t needed to buy soap.
Two years ago their son
began to work at the shoe factory.
Now they have 500 shoes between them,
and no soap.
Theft feet are beginning to stink,
but not their shoes.
Mama never remembers to buy soap at the store.
It is a mental block, she says,
while papa hasn’t noticed that
the soap is gone.
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