Devonte, think of it this way
that the faces of gods
are hidden in the bathroom orchids.
Believe you me I’ve seen them
silently whispering through the shampoo smoke
the aftershave offerings
that waft over our lady of the toilet
above the hydrogenous fissures we mistake for mouths
above the hand that trembles
before unscrewing the aspirin host
above the mouthwash
with its undeniable
periwinkle for cleanliness
the commode gods are staring.
They are contemplating
your next awkward preamble.
They are waiting
to pounce forth from
the moan and sway
of your bowels,
eat away at you like
maggots devouring flesh.
From Devonte Travels the Sorry Route (Omnidawn, 2019). Copyright © 2019 by T. J. Anderson III. Used with the permission of Omnidawn.