My cherub toddles, tumbles,
Bops and rolls.
She ambles in her drunken manner
To kiss my knee.
She looks up at me,
Charming, sweet-faced;
She smiles a semi-toothless
She is heaven-sent.
An innocent courier.

My smeller smells a smelly smell.
Could it be?
A silence disquiets me.
Panic and trepidation rise to a feverish pitch and
I am filled with
The fear.

It is the odiferous, foul,
Pungent, putrid, petrified, poopy, droopy waste-trap.
The Stench!
The olfactory terror.
Oh! The Horror!

Dirty Diaper.

by Karen Cantwell

Visit her Blog:
Page created 4/3/09
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