Email Poem

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Poem

Less than twenty-four hours after dashing off a poem 
   explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis, 
   a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel 
   from the anus of this guy
which bout with rectal obstruction 
   found me doubled over with lower abdominal distress 
   whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows 
   against the cellar brick wall), 
   thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh
and managed to muster the means to bare 
   frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase 
   the Acme brand Metamucil, which akin to Drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract supposedly loosening the stools, 
   which optimism (product didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent to cease LivingSocial would try
humph enjoining this lvii year old married male 
   to cede victory to the grim reaper, who would vie
as winner de jure to this common fellow invoking libretto 
   ohm resistant understudy waste not want not 
allowing, enabling and providing relief, 
   without successful defecation 
   despite the oppressive urge to bolster this Uriah 
heap of balled up and tuckered out five foot and ten inches of lovely bones 
   thence mouthing retraction of former thought to cease existing
though a non-bull lever in any power broker qua mankind
   relief at long last provided posterior answered prayer 
   yet, this scrivener scrutinizes his recurring pain in the ass jagged torture
   and asks a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?

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