The Gift Poem by Susan Christiansen

Did you poop your pants
Today?
Lorenzo’s mother asked.
His shorts crept up,
As he walked by.
An odor wafted past.

My teacher got a little gift.
One she’ll never store.
A portable gift,
Still slightly warm.
I left it on the floor.

Did the teacher like your gift?
I’m so happy you want to share.
How did she say, “Thank you? ” she asked.
She sat me on a chair.

Did you have to sit there long?
His mom began to cluck.
A little longer than she planned,
In the chair,
My hands were stuck.

My pants,
I really need to change.
I stink, I know it’s true.
His mother closed her eyes and moaned.
The “gift” he’d left was poo.