Your lover leaves the toilet seat up,
forgets what color your eyes are, misses
your calls four times out of five.

He says more than ten thousand unwary
Americans get tripped up each year
by buckets, so he stacks the buckets up.

Toilet seat trauma is way more likely
than shark attacks. Sitting down hard
when the toilet seat’s up can dislocate

your hip. And what if the toilet collapses?
With sharks you’re safe if your feet
stay on land, toes in the ooze, heels

sinking slightly under your weight.
Hold the warm hand of your lover and
look out together at wild churning waves.

Lick the salt from his parted lips.
The shrill sound of laughter is
a quarrelsome gull. At two PM,

the hour when sharks most likely bite,
you’re back in the bathroom eyeing
the dewy citrus air freshener. It could wound

if it bursts into flame. Warning: here
in Florida, Burmese pythons slide indoors,
seek the toilet, wrap their long bodies

around its cool bowl. Look: razors,
scissors, tweezers. And who left a nest
of buckets dripping green fluid onto the floor?

Barbara Daniels’ book Rose Fever was published by WordTech Press. Talk to the Lioness is forthcoming from Casa de Cinco Hermanas Press. Daniels’ poetry has appeared in Prairie Schooner, Mid-American Review, and other journals. She received three fellowships from the New Jersey State Council on the Arts.