Paul Hostovsky

Wilkinson Swords

Neither of us shaved yet–
we were just seven and five,
watching TV, when he said, 
“I have to pee.” And I said, 
“I have to pee, too,” because 
I did, and because I did everything 
he did, because he was older 
and wiser, and a little taller. 

We stood on either side 
of the toilet, our tinkling streams 
crossing. “Wilkinson swords!” he exclaimed, 
an allusion to the crossed swords 
in the TV commercial for men’s razors. 
We’d seen it a hundred times
because we watched a lot of TV.
I may or may not have gotten 
the connection between the swords and the idea
of a close shave. But I got the connection 
between the crossed swords 
and the crossed streams. As sharp 

as if it were today, that image 
of the two of us peeing collaboratively, 
seven and five, respectively, 
laughing together at the bon mot,

aiming our little weenies into the toilet bowl,
artfully directing the flow 
across space, across time, across
a whole lifetime of big and little ideas.
 

 
Paul Hostovsky's latest book of poems is MOSTLY (FutureCycle Press, 2021). He has won a Pushcart Prize, two Best of the Net Awards, and has been featured on Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, and The Writer's Almanac. Website: paulhostovsky.com