Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.8
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Cloistered within the restroom stall
eavesdropping on my peers
soft whispers echo off tiled walls
revealing secrets, hidden tears

Somehow this restroom has become
a sordid confessional booth
a place of refuge, safe for some
to air their inner truth

Co-workers cluster, confiding things
they wouldn't want the boss to know
nasty hangovers, weekend flings
soap-opera worthy woes

Some speak carefully, checking stalls
noting unfamiliar shoes
while others quickly unleash it all
like they have nothing to lose

“That ratfink took credit for all my work
but I'm gonna wait and be patient-
'cause I've got a plan to fix that jerk
next week while he's out on vacation!”

Young woman details a wicked trap
to catch her mortal foe...
while on the door, the impatient raps
of another who's “got to go”

Next there is an angry mother
scolding her wayward son
something or other (he did to his brother)
the fussing has just begun

“Listen Mister, I've had about all
I can take from you today
Oh, now you're sorry, no- don't you bawl!
I wasn't born yesterday!”

Then tripping in, catty office girls
meowling with purrs and sighs
pretend to freshen their faces and curls
while sniping and scratching out eyes

“...Lovely green sweater you're wearing, my dear-
wherever did you buy it?”
She means it looks quite awful on you
“Here, this smells good, you should try it!”

“Gangway girls- I'm comin' through!”
woman bellows, bursting through door
the others pause, and then continue
nonchalantly as before

Eventually they all trickle out
and two teenage girls traipse in
whispering about poor What's-Her-Face
and all the trouble she's in

“She's only twelve, and such a shame
tried to kill herself last week
they said she's crazy, that she's to blame
a loser, misfit, freak...”

“So they had her institutionalized
and she sits, spaced out, and stares
while they tell her the abuse was 'made-up lies'
and she knows that no one cares”

Sooner or later, there's silence
as the restroom door swings closed
then after a flush, a wash, a rinse
I get myself composed

Finally, I'm all alone here
in this magical, comforting place
voicing my own insecurities, fears
to my mirror-image face
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required