I’m sitting on a bench feeling vague and uneasy
Thinking about how I would like to eat mayo
And how canned tuna is just a vehicle for mayo 
But we’re all afraid to admit it 

I tell Marc I feel like I have a bunch of poop in my body 
And no butthole. He laughs and I’m only sort of joking

I watched Midsommar yesterday
I liked when the guy from We’re The Millers peed on the ancestral tree
And how the Swedish lady cut off his face

I’ve been cleaning for eleven hours and the cat pooped again.
Like she’s challenging me.

If you agreed to complete any dare and someone said here,
Drink this cup of pee, and handed you a cup of pee,

Would you do it? I want to be the kind of person 
To drink the pee. I would respect someone 
With that level of dedication. 

Writing is a kind of time travel
And I keep regressing

Claire Denson is a Poetry Reader for The Adroit Journal and holds an MFA from UNC Greensboro, where she served as Editorial Intern for The Greensboro Review. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Massachusetts Review, Sporklet, and Hobart, among others. You can find her at clairedenson.com.