“Celebration of Bed Wetters”

We do fine in wet pajamas.
Our little footsies sopping up carpet,
as if each one of us represents
our own hole in the roof,
leaking and sneaking,
as we tip toe from our flayed mattress
to the laundry room downstairs.
Bundling up our bedding
and stuffing it inside—
we strip down bare,
performing a high knee
“piss in my pants”
dance,
until we are spinning in the shower,
clean of the golden stink every child creates,
at least once or twice—or well
through grade school,
as was my case.

narrative poem written on 12-10-2010 by: on mattkane.com
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