enuresis
Terror is not– Ed –
sitting in one’s piss.
I know– I’ve sat there –
I’ve slept there and did
most of my childhood.
That was warmth– in fact –
and comfort– in spite
of the unconcealed
unconcealable
smell. Terror? That was
and always will be
Mother cursing Dad
and there there I am
alone in that night
hearing that door slam.
