How many derrieres have touched this old seat? <br />How many posteriors systematically leaked? <br />How many young hooligans, carelessly trained, <br />Neglect to lift pot and right onto it rain? <br />Pink bums hover over it, ruthlessly wiped. <br />Large arses fall plump ‘round the sides to be scraped. <br />Young girls with red flowers dropp their used cottons in <br />So drips splink back up and line stuck ‘round the rim. <br />Irked mothers leave nappies dark-soiled on the floor. <br />Some people even wipe their mess on the door. <br />In cities, how many kids skulk from the rain <br />And aim vicious needles at fresh pulsing veins? <br />They leave bitter droplets of blood on the brick <br />And dirty steel works waiting for Death’s next fix. <br />How many bombs dropped splash a majestic mess? <br />And how many drunk sots leak a gloried morass <br />So an ocean will greet you when inside you roam? <br />I think I will hold it until I get home.<br /><br />Sonja Broderick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/public-loo/
