Recumbent for my sigmoidoscopy,
Impaled and eyeballed fiber optically,
I feel newly possessed of interest in
The convolutions of my large intestine.
The MD, who applied KY in dollops
To ease this probing search for colon polyps,
Now further mitigates his exploration
Of my digestive tract with smooth narration,
Discoursing on the “pink tunnel” he sees
Unblemished (yay!) by abnormalities.
Around some bends, his diagnostic tool
Provides close-ups of rogue remnants of stool,
Escapees from the enemas I used
Preparatory to being thus perused.
Whenever this occurs, his bedside patter
Copes unembarrassed with the fecal matter:
He tells me that throughout a long career
Of scrutinizing patients from the rear
He’s found one stool is much like all the others,
And therefore knows all men are truly brothers.
How grand that science up my ass should see
Such proof of humankind’s equality.
The truths we hold to be self-evident
Can be descried inside my fundament.
[ Originally published in Iambs & Trochees ]
Chris O’Carroll is a writer, actor, and comedian. You can read his poems in The Barefoot Muse, Folly, 14 by 14, Measure, Umbrella, and other print and online journals. You can see him onstage in Bus Stop at the Majestic Theater in Massachusetts Feb. 26 – Apr. 5.