Poetry

The poop I eat is quite tasty
When I eat it I can't help but be hasty
It's delightful and it comes from my bung
I put it in my mouth and slosh it around with my tongue
I then let it glide right down my esophagus
The log lands in my stomach, fecal sarcophagus
It passes through my digestive tract
But it is already digested and remains intact
Therefore I recognize my turds when they reappear
I know each one intimately, their company I endear
I refer to each by name, but pets they are more than
They are friends and equals, a part of my clan