Poetry

Inspired by a story in the Examiner 
Apologies to Longfellow

A No-go Line

THIS is the province primeval. The public toilets are padlocked,
Inaccessible, unramped, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like privies of eld, with seats sad and broken,
Stand like Harper's hoar, with signs that rest on the ground.
Loud from his mighty perch, the deep-voiced Stephen McNeil
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the Call of Nature

This is the province primeval; but where are the Jakes that within it
Are called for by Strang, when he hears in his office the voice of the media?

Where is the the water closet, the understanding of Covid,
Hygiene for people whose lives depend on hot water for sanitation,

Promised by regulation, but unenforced by lazy inspectors?

Missing are those comfort stations, the farters forever embarrassed
Promised like paving, when the mighty blasts of politicians
Pledge them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the province.
Naught but a faint memory remains after the election.

Ye who believe in latrines, endure, and be patient,
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of the unisex lavatory,
List to the mournful promises still sung by the public servants;
List to a Tale of Loos in Acadie, home of those waiting to tinkle.