Cold Comfort

To escape the thick, black night
of fearful dream-lit sleep,
I scurry quietly into the bathroom
and shut the door.

I kill the monstrous darkness
with an urgent tug of the cord
and staunch the tell-tale flow of light
with a towel and

stem the light bleeding through the
keyhole with another towel on the door
before I stop holding my breath for fear
of waking them.

If they find me they will scold me and
send me back to the blackness
of my bed. This is my halfway house
of cold comfort.

Here, I conquer one fear and hide
from another. I take up my seat on the
laundry box and wait for grey dawn to spill
under the blind.