I want to make a bee line for the shop —
there is panic buying again —
but my bowels won’t let me,
Please let me go, I say.
But my bowels are recalcitrant.
When they get in this mood there is nothing
you can do.
I threaten them with torpedoes,
my moondrop grapes
but they grip their fists even harder
against the attack.
So rather than sit and wait & twiddle my thumbs
I write this little poem.
My bowels immediately relent.
There are enough bad bowel poems out there
Mine does not want to be added to the list.
My bowels heave a sigh of relief.