Putrid stenches swirl in a whirlpool pristine white
first cascading, then dribbling . . . in delight
breaking, shattering silence of the gloomy, dark night
that’s flushed quickly in a rippling circle of life
odorous scents abound . . . nothing masks the smell
it’s no place to dawdle; no place to dwell
teams of life swarm around here for a spell
discarded from heaven . . . pushed thru laundry chutes
the receptacle reeks . . . no clue to once pristine
we should have learned lessons but man still seems green
mostly proud of our lives; don’t wish to swirl clean
faithfully the brush moves all around us . . . hoping
in our haste and waste, we fail to circulate
depend, instead, on gadgets to regulate
it’s no wonder the water turned . . . brackish, stagnate
. . . all too soon the heavens hush when angels flush