Self-Portrait as a Cubicle

[wpaudio url=”/audio/6_13/Wong.mp3″ text=”listen to this poem” dl=”0″]

Keep me clean –

that microbial oval toilet seat,
overused, turned

ivory with occasional
drips of yellow,

a Jackson Pollack
on periphery.

*

Keep me sanitized –

says a sign – laminated
with ripped corners,

narrating how to spread
sterilizer evenly

around the curve.

*

Unbuckled, pants
down, knees
bent. Starts

the waiting for enclosed
ongoing.

*

On my body,
there are words, drawings,

phone numbers. And
a hole,

small but big enough
for your eye.

You peep
through it, a fecund

kaleidoscope,
for a face-

less prepuce
cordoned off by me.