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.