Poem of the Week: Tales of A Hidden Closet 

Linda Newman Woito
Iowa City, Iowa Branch

 

Prudence opened a narrow door and was surprised

she was walking into a closet thinking it was a women’s

bathroom but since she was already holding her legs

tightly together she decided to pull the door closed

and have at it in a little drain that sat in the corner

of the closet below the handy-dandy pull-chain light

and so she did.  As she began relieving herself

the light dimmed once then twice and everything

went black including the drain itself which she was

straining to see as she aimed with as steady a stream

as she could manage under the circumstances.  Yet

all she could think as she tried to relax was did I lock

the door when I came in, knowing I’d need a moment

of personal privacy.   But before she could answer

to her satisfaction the door opened and in walked

a young janitor with a mop and a glass of champagne

in his hand, and soon he was bending over as she

tried to yank up her too-tight jeans in the most

lady-like manner she knew when suddenly the light

came on and she heard him ask:  Can I help you Lady?

You lose something Lady? To which she replied

No, not at all in fact I’ve found precisely what I’ve 

needed for a long long time and in exactly the right 

time place and manner…indeed in the right order

and so she pulled the pull-chain once then twice

and out went the light in time for the next tale

to begin.

 

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