‘It’s your turn’, my wife said to me
As I pulled my behind, off the settee
And picked up our baby, unsure to find
What she had produced with a squelch, from her behind
As I scaled the stairs, the smell it came
No one should now light a flame
With each step closer, to a smelly doom
My tummy churned, as we walked in the room
The changing mat was clean and ready
And now the smell was coming steady
I laid her down and pulled back the nappy
What would I find? What would I see
I nearly passed out when the smell hit me
I don’t ever remember her eating a rat
Or green food
Or all that corn
Or something green and something flat
But I had to stand tall and face it down
I pulled the wet wipes pack around
I got to wiping but then it hit – abhorrent!
The yellowy tide, it was a torrent!
I moved quick, I had no choice
I started sweating and I had lost my voice
I kept wiping one, two, three,
This poonami would not beat me
After 5 minutes of wriggling and toil
I felt like a winner!
I had achieved it all!
New nappy was on
she was smiling and cooing
I picked her up and oh noooooo
she started pooing…
Anthony Tolman ©