This is my favorite poem. Of. All. Time.
It should come as no surprise to you.
Poop
By Gerald Locklin
my daughter, blake, is in kindgergarten. they are teaching her to be a docile citizen and, incidentally to read. concurrently, like many of us, she has become a trifle anal compulsive. complications ensue.
i ask her what she has learned today. she says, “i learned the pledge of allegiance.” “how does it go?” i ask. “it goes,” she says, “i poop allegiance to the poop of the united poops of ameripoop.”
“that’s good,” i say, “that’s very good. what else?” “o say can you poop, by the dawn’s early poop, what so proudly we pooped…”
for christmas, she improvises, “away in a pooper, all covered in poop, the little lord poopus lay pooping his poop.”
she has personalized other traditional favorites as well. someone, perhaps her grandmother, tried to teach her the “our father”. her version goes, “our pooper, who art in poopland, hallowed by thy poop, thy poopdom poop, they poop be pooped, on earth as it is in poopland.”
surely hemingway would feel one-upped. surely the second pooping is at hand.
a fortune teller told us blake would be our greatest sorrow and our greatest joy. already, it is true.
