A Shit Poem

for Maggie,
whose God is the God
of things that can be felt

"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe

We are, after all, the products of things.
Sharp angled and immovable
just like the ancient God,
that of the fight with the bull and Baal.
Great organic objects define our lives,
from the rocks that hem us in
to the earth that keeps us dry.

Your obsession
with defecation as poetic symbol,
a benediction rooted in the earth,
a physical magic
like a hammer charged with Being,
makes sense to me most
in the chaos of life. When
floating through the mind's abstract
a wicked host of shades, the strife
of which seems unending,
to merely expel waste is a blessing
that shows us what life is:
sharp angles, immovable objects, soil, and shit.