Behind the Door

This is one of my very favoritest poems – I know that’s not a word, but I’m pretty sure this particular poem needs a new word to explain it.

Thunderbox

When I was a girl, and the world trouble free,
There was only one thing that was bothering me,
The new house was finished, apart from the loo,
So we had to find somewhere else we could poo.

Dad dug a big hole miles away up a hill,
He poured into it a sharp chemical swill,
Then he built a small room, with a door and a seat,
And said “Here’s where we’ll go when we need to excrete.”

At nighttime the outhouse was shadowy, still,
And to go spend a penny took great force of will,
By torchlight I trek’d up the path to that room,
The light of the torch barely piercing the gloom.

I entered the small room and I closed the door,
I slid home the slide bolt, set in on the chore,
I picked up the torch and I placed it just right
So it’s beam threw the greatest amount of dim light.

I thought I was alone, and I thought I was alert,
I started to lift up the edge of my skirt,
And pull down my knickers, then suddenly saw,
Oh dear God! What was That! On the back of the door!

With my undies half mast, I looked in dismay,
At the massive arachnid who sometime that day,
Had decided to creep in, decided to sit
In the little outhouse where we all went to shit.

I was frozen in horror, I was trapped with this beast
I imagined he looked upon me as a feast
My heart beating wildly, my mouth turning dry,
I mentally did kiss my backside goodbye.

Then a measure of sense returned into my head,
And I started to plan on surviving instead,
I started to wonder just how I could split,
Whilst disturbing the spider not one little bit.

I could grab the door handle and open it quick
Then race out of the outhouse all lickety split
But what if the spider in all of my haste
Lost his grip on the door and came straight at my face?

I quickly decided that speed wouldn’t work,
Which meant slowly and smoothly instead of a jerk,
So now to the problem that touching the slider,
Would mean that my hand was too close to the spider.

I had to be brave, so I took a deep breath,
My knees knocked together, I thought about death,
But I reached out with one shaking hand to the latch
And somehow I managed to undo the catch.

Then, sweating, I put my hand on to the knob
I turned it real slowly and swallowed a sob
I opened the door with mixed panic and pride
And in triumph and terror I made it outside!

Such huge celebrations went on in my mind
I’d finally left the arachnid behind!
He was still inside and I had got out!
If it hadn’t been night I’d have let out a shout!

I felt in my gut an uncomfortable urge,
A twist of intestines, a powerful surge,
I despaired and ignored for a minute or so
But with sad dismay realised…

…I still had to go…

Behind the Door
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