by Peter Knaggs
At first we thought it was a mop
or a dishcloth and we threw them out –
But the nest day it was still there –
So we swept the floor and opened a window
but it got worse. We held our hands
over our mouth and said JESUS
and – Where’s that coming from?
and – that fuckin’ stinks. We looked
under the stairs and moved the drawers.
It would make the faint-hearted gag
or puke and the women held their noses.
We looked at each other: What is it?
What is it? What is it? It was pin-clean,
we’d washed and got the bleach out
then I had an epiphany and I knew exactly
what it was. It was our government.
Peter Knaggs is the author of two poetry collections. 'Sunburnt Bollock,' is forthcoming.