You smell like pooh, she said, 
and placed a needle in my belly. 
Excuse me? I said. 

You smell like pooh, she repeated, 
and placed another needle 
next to the first one. 

Shoeless and semi-nude 
on the acupuncture treatment table, 
I lay in silent shame. 

Did you swim this morning? she asked. 
Swim? No, I said, wondering 
what’s swimming got to do with pooh? 

I always shower 
before my appointments. 

You smell like chemical 
they put in pooh, she said, 
and sniffed my hands. 

The pool? 
You’re talking about the pool! 
Yes, she said, Pooh. 

Why am I hardwired with shame 
to immediately grovel 
in the dogshit? 

Roseanne Freed

spent more than a decade working in the Gift Store at the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles. Her poems have appeared in Blue Heron Review, MacQueen’s Quinterly, ONE ART, Verse-Virtual, and Writing in a Woman’s Voice, among others. Her work was nominated for Best of the Net 2022.

More on the Web: By, About, and Beyond

⚡ The Stranger (23 February 2023) by Roseanne Freed in ONE ART

⚡ Where are you from? in Verse-Virtual (July 2022)

⚡ Signs read by Rosie on YouTube (25 January 2021)