What If They Make Me Go

This poem is too mean, too rude, too unkind. I can never post it. I do not want them to know There is an ounce of meanness In the persona of me that I dare to show. This poem has the word poop. What was I thinking? It rhymes with scoop, But is the poem now Completely stinking? This poem reflects my most secretive thoughts. What if they take them, and run and make cots? What if they bind them together and sing? What if they jump in and make them all zing? What if I am being silly? What if my mind is willy? For no reason other That I want them to think That I am a mother, and Cannot make poems stink? What if I am not even a real poet? Will they nicely and quietly let me somehow know? What if we are all friends, but they still make me go? Could I survive without Poetry Soup? Why don’t I just scratch that awful word ‘poop.’