During our recent redecoration of the guest bathroom, the toilet sat in the living room for several days, calling to mind Russell Edson's prose poem, "With Sincerest Regrets."
Like a white snail the toilet slides into the living room demanding to be loved.
It is impossible, and we tender our sincerest regrets.
In the book of the heart there is no mention made of plumbing.
And though we have spent our intimacy many times with you, you belong to an unfortunate reference, which we would rather not embrace . . .
The toilet slides out of the living room like a white snail, flushing with grief . . .
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