I peed the bed to comfort
myself when I was little. Warmth and
a familiar, acrid smell enfolded
me as I surrounded
myself with myself.
But the embrace faded into shivers.
Why didn't I become a criminal
with all the other bed wetters?
She's still inside me. I ply
her with chocolate to stop her.
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Ann Tweedy is a poet, lawyer specializing in the representation of Indian tribes, and law professor who currently makes her home in Washington State. Her poetry has been published in Rattle, Clackamas Literary Review, Wisconsin Review, and Lavender Review, among other places. Her first full-length book, The Body’s Alphabet, was published in 2016 by Headmistress Press and was recently named as a finalist for a Lambda Literary Award.
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