Last Call

Written for Living Poetry. Bart asks us
to write a drain poem. We’re asked to
think about the act of liquids draining
and to come up with a new metaphor.

The tub’s a nightclub at closing time ….
the water has had a blast,
but someone (the rude drain, no doubt)
yells “Everybody out, and FAST!”

The suds don’t want to leave the party;
they cling to porcelain walls.
“Five more minutes!” gurgles one,
before the whole scene falls

down through the pipes like stumbling patrons
shoved into a cab,
still bragging to the U-bend
about the night they had.

And somewhere in the septic dark
they’ll wake up, mouths like glue,
asking why the tub let them drink
so much of that damn shampoo!

NAR©2026

This is “Splish Splash” by Bobby Darin

Monday Poetry Prompt: Drain

^{Everything on The Elephant’s Trunk was created by me, unless otherwise indicated. Thanks for your consideration. NAR©2017-present.}