Don't walk there
says uncle, you know it
says father, you don't want
to sink into the shit

We dare to go right up to
the edge of the pit and shift
our weight to feel
the ground move

The privy is at the back, against the house:
a cubicle with a round peephole
in the door, on a sump
that Uncle Joe comes to empty

Together with the dipper
he does the pit, pails
through the kitchen and hallway
to the cart with the shit barrel

And then we mop
The building is too old
to be connected
to the sewer system

and will be demolished
but there is no other home
for us yet, and until then
it is just our home