Love them or hate them, we all have them. They are counted amongst the darker, more mysterious recesses of the human body, and yet in most of western society there is no law banning their public appearances—only taboo prevents them from being openly flaunted. Shaved naked or furred, they are never listed as person’s most attractive feature. The humble armpit, or aptly abbreviated ‘pit’ if you come from the USA, is much maligned, and so I took it upon myself to lift our furry friends into the poetic realm for a much-needed boost to their public image.
Armpits are scary, because they are hairy,
Moist, soft and dark, for germs they’re an Ark,
With the whiffs they make, grown men shake,
But with a woman’s nose? They fall into repose,
Insensate upon the ground.
Bits of fluff, and all kinds of stuff,
Become caught, on shaved pit-fur that’s short.
And if it’s longer, there’s more to ponder,
When sifting with nails, for nits with tails,
And other crawlies gone to ground.
Wives fume, at their hubby’s perfume,
When he comes in lame, sweating from the game.
But upon his wife’s scent, he cannot comment,
Else he’ll draw his last breath, and find his death,
Buried with the kitchen knife deep in the ground.
‘Armpits’, A poem by T. James, © 21st May, 2012.