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"Enuresis," by Cid Corman
Terror--Ed--is not
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 unconsealed
UnconsealableSmell. Terror? That was
And always will be
Mother cursing DadAnd there there I am
Alone in that night
Hearing that door slam.