Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

I’m scared of bumping into someone while they piss 

those Mondays I’m a packhorse     bags hung 

swirling around the urinal bodies 

and one day   I know   I’ll knock someone 

and they’ll piss their legs   or they’ll turn slightly 

and show another man their full arc 

or they’ll fall into their own wet puddle 

cock limp   and neither of us will look 

or he’ll look at me avoiding looking 

feigning interest in the hard cream tiles 

maybe it’s that I dream of being bumped 

knocked from my aim by a stranger 

the briefest touch during the private act 

the toilet is an intimacy 

only shared with parents when you are young 

and once again when they are older 

and with lovers when   say    on a Sunday 

morning stretching into the bathroom 

you wake to the sound of stream into bowl 

and go to hug the naked body 

stood with its back to you    and kiss the neck 

and taste the whole of the night on there 

and smell the morning’s pale yellow loss 

and take the whole of him in your hand 

and feel the water moving through him 

and knowing that this is love   the prone flesh 

what we expel from the body and what we let inside