It’s a Piece of Piss
 
as Julia would say, but it makes no sense
or does it? Picture a piece of piss.
To be described as a piece it must be solid,
maybe even frozen, like up in the Arctic
and be either straw-coloured or darker,
depending on the level of hydration,
but certainly not white like an iceberg
or clear like one of those smooth mints,
you know the ones, if you’re not careful
they can slip down the back of your throat
and nearly choke you. So, imagine that
you are holding this piece of piss in your hands.
How do you feel? Puzzled? Bemused?
Embarrassed? Disgusted?
If it’s no longer in the Arctic I would say
embarrassed AND disgusted
because it will soon be melting
and people will think you’ve done it
when they see the pool of water on the floor.
So this piece of piss, let’s say it is like
something you do not need right now,
for example, when you’ve hurt your back
constantly tightening up the laces
on your winter hiking boots
because you tie laces very badly
and your dad used to tie them for you
and the walking makes them loosen
and all that repetition of bending over
has caused a spasm and the next day
you can hardly walk, let alone bend down
and all your plans for the week
have had to be shelved including
your regular trip to the cemetery
where you like to talk to your dad
and probably also your mum –
if you’re as old as I am –
while sitting next to their granite headstone
just to show how much you miss them
and that’s definitely a piece of piss.

Susan Wilson
 
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Susan Wilson would be pleased to hear them.