Danny D. Ford

Excerpt from a Bad Day 

It wasn’t a real shit
It was hollow
spluttered
drawn out thin
he was too weak to wipe
so his wet arsehole just hung there
like a petal in the morning wind
– dew drop about to drip
a sore eye
welling up with tears

The air freshener clicked 
and sprayed outside the cubicle
the sound like the hissing gas 
of a turning cap
on a cola bottle

Damp electricity
coated the filthy tiles 
as his bony face
and the hard to reach bog roll
bathed
in lonely fluorescent light