Toilet Paper Roles

By Leon Schlossberg

She leaves empty toilet paper rolls, 
to mimic the lonely towel racks. 
Never changes the blade in my razor, 
rendered dull from shaving her legs. 
Squeezes the toothpaste tube in the middle, 
and never screws the cap back on. 
Clogs the shower drain with her hair, 
and leaves wet towels on the bathroom floor 
or the bedroom floor, or on the bed. 
I endure the mental torture because 
an argument with her, unthinkable. 
Refilling toilet paper, picking up towels, 
changing blades in the razor and 
rolling up the bottom of the toothpaste tube, 
I’ve become adept at covering up 
all the little things that make me wish 
she would think of me sometimes, 
dying to please her but instead 
dying of anguished frustration. 
Love is an interesting phenomena 
weakening a man and forcing him 
to remain silent and look away, 
while subjected to little annoyances 
that would drive any saint to tantrums.
Relinquishes his self respect in return 
for chances to hold her even a moment, 
or find warmth and release in her arms. 
Suffers him to hold his tongue long 
after reason and patience have vanished. 
Small frustration upon frustration 
chipping away at order and sanity. 
But the world would quietly end 
without her footsteps beside mine, 
or the soap she always leaves 
floating in the water just over the drain 
clogged with her beautiful hair. 
There can be no life without her, 
no solace in loneliness, but maybe, 
tonight I’ll leave the toilet seat up!

This poem is from The Feminist Toilet #1. To go back and read more, click here.

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