persona egg poem from point of view of slutty needy girl

BELLY UP

the still-borns are appropriating
the white walls of your bathroom tonight
their sterility

and an aborted phone call to an ex
so here I am
to piss out the snot of our clumsy consent
and I can smell it

a could-be phone call
of future long-afters and fraudulent questions
-answering machine questions
phrased like statements
“I have your book still”

your white walls are hard
the white floor is cold
you are out of toilet paper
and im warming the toilet seat
naked little dripping egg

the most fragile things are always the hardest to handle
there is yolk in the toilet that I didn’t flush down
and much later on the phone
i will explain to you in concrete ways
how i have proof that i am not sterile
and when i tell you i am broke
i will be pissed
and you wont quite get it
or care

i know this
because i know what the walls and floor of your bathroom are made of
and why they remind me so much of a doctors office
that white things like this are made that way to appear more sterile
and unlike you,
it my first time for this kind of thing
and tomorrow morning after i have gone
you can step right in to your sterile white bathroom
and smell it
and know.