How many derrieres have touched this old seat?
How many posteriors systematically leaked?
How many young hooligans, carelessly trained,
Neglect to lift pot and right onto it rain?
Pink bums hover over it, ruthlessly wiped.
Large arses fall plump ‘round the sides to be scraped.
Young girls with red flowers dropp their used cottons in
So drips splink back up and line stuck ‘round the rim.
Irked mothers leave nappies dark-soiled on the floor.
Some people even wipe their mess on the door.
In cities, how many kids skulk from the rain
And aim vicious needles at fresh pulsing veins?
They leave bitter droplets of blood on the brick
And dirty steel works waiting for Death’s next fix.
How many bombs dropped splash a majestic mess?
And how many drunk sots leak a gloried morass
So an ocean will greet you when inside you roam?
I think I will hold it until I get home.

Sonja Broderick

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/public-loo/