Muddy Mouth

Deep in the undergrows, Handy sighed with relief. He’d come alone in the dark
He’d come again at dawn, if not before the morning cockrise
Meanwhile in the bushes above, behind the toepath which goes along
Beside the canal leading to the sea, which in turn leads on to
All the major oceans – Indian, Atlantic, Pacific,
I can’t remember the names Of the others
off – Handy cided to leave
He’d come apart at the seam – endangered life and lawn order before
The more since he lies (even under oaf handy lies) when he feels caught
Between righthand wrong. I think he just might have been wrong this time
Which in turn left him with few alternatives to relieving himself by hand
Alone in the dark, wanking in the bog?