About My Navel
A gullet of flesh choking on coarse hair
or more like a whirlpool spitting lint
and gritty, wretched pus.
The navel is barely a poetic subject,
that is unless you consider disgusting portals
to the murky inner self a philistine concept,
which many might.
Fools.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
