State of the Urine

It reeks
as one would think who has a nose
It leaks
from every bladder till it flows
It seeks
its level, so the puddle grows
It speaks
with every fetid breeze that blows

Our freaks
adore such pissing-contest shows.
for staging these each of them knows.
For weeks
(all fifty-two) they primp and pose,
their cheeks
stained urine-yellow. So it goes . . .

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright © 2023