It became known
as the time of the Great Wipe-Out,
when, within days, toilet paper
grew endangered, and then became extinct,
the dodo or passenger pigeon
of spool-rolled tissue,
and people, with unwiped bums
and infant-style rashes,
seized up and went blank,
suddenly forgetting that they could
place their asses in showers,
the tall kissing cousin to bidets,
and get those anal inner-cheek-stains
aquatically erased.
Toilet paper morphed from a privilege
and luxury item into a totemic irreplaceable
in no time flat.
Then it was gone.
Before it had a chance
to enjoy its newfound status
as the softly reigning icon and saint of the cabinet.
Somewhere, an unwiped ass is weeping,
while its host-body turns the other cheek,
afraid to face the fact that that
which is rotten in Denmark,
is intimately closer than you think.