shit in the shape
of a salmon, complete
with arched (taut?) spine,
with forked swimmy tale

shit in the shape of the fish
on long carsí Sunday bumpers
lined up idling, lining
the pockets of their blessed
drivers with soot, ashes, embers

a shit thatís a
stallionís head, an
Arabian, broken off
just above the withers,
the festinated withers

this shit was a one
second spray burst. after
the flush this shit left
the Big Dipper on the bowl
above the water line. as the refill
streamed in, the constellation
changed to meteorites, falling
stars, satellites
of many types azoom
crisscross through the fluid

this shitís the shape
of the letter aleph

that shit was a boot
slipped down the hole
before I could identify
the wearer; a boot with
a pointy, upturned toe

this shit is
a guy in profile.
maybe itís hitchcock.

itís the
little ones
which talk
this way