Arlene Corwin writes

Toilet Yoga

Oh, the house, a useful place:

The bathtub where I brace toes, legs and arms

While sitting in its warming charms, 

Putting pressure everywhere -

Stretching front and side and rear,

Scratching at and off a tear

Or scab or color I’m not used to.

Water soft, and callous too.

I can think of endless things to glean

Beside just soaping, scrubbing unclean skin.

Drying, finding the accessible and unget-at-able.

Holding onto lid or sink,

Then sinking down, or up on toes,

Or hosing down, 

Or thrusting washcloth at the mirror,

I see field-days galore.

I can think of more, but now I’ve got to 

Get up off the floor and dress up,

But before, I think I’ll do one little press-up.

Yoga is an everything-on-anything,

For any,- everything’s a tool:

This being essence of it all;

Toilet roll or toilet bowl.

You can fiddle and invent,

Add to the allotted span

So as to add one month, one year

One breath, less fear,

One period of usefulness, 

One lovely animated force.

One hopes you weren’t too embarrassed.

 

 

 -- Buckley