The toilet stared
            A challenge
            Belly full of waste
            Not my toilet.
            Not my clog either,
            I was sure.

            For flight
            I resisted the reflex
            Hovered over a congestion
            Which defied medicine
            Pooh-poohed the Heimlich
            Beaded my forehead
            With droplets of inexperience.

            With memories of drills
            Swimming lessons I had failed,
            Equipped with plunger on too-short stick,
            Hands cased in plastic bags, I

Dove in,
            The patterns resurrected
            ONE-TWO-THREE-FOUR Breathe
            Never learned to make a seal,
            Never got beyond the red badge of courage,
            But I

            The voice of long-forgotten
            Instructor roaring
            "Plunge" (four times)
            rewarded by gurgling victim revived

            The flusher complied
            With a gentle suggestion
            From my bagged finger
            The pipes could not refuse.
            Rescue mission a swimming success
            Too late for my own redemption.

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