Bad Rem Poem by Keith Langdon

I gripped the frame of the bathroom door,
looked back at my wife as she sat in bed,
and with fear and confusion loudly whispered
that not only was our toilet missing,
but there was no opening in the floor where it sat.
She shook her head and smiled in amusement,
in anticipation of the punch line to come,
then paused and listened and turned her head,
as her attention was drawn to the neighboring room,
where hordes of beetles glistening black
covered the walls and pulsed on the floor,
and faced our direction with a clicking roar –
and her expression changed.