Again

The front door opens onto the hallway
running through the apartment like a spine.
To the left, the living room, the green couch
there’s somewhere a picture of me kissing
cousin Deborah on, and the bridge table
where Grandma Ruth taught us to play Mah Jong.
Further down, the kitchen, the brown chairs,
my father and his father drinking beer,
talking the horses. Straight ahead, the door
I don’t remember ever seeing open.

He says he’s going to teach me a lesson.
He says it’s my mother’s fault. He pushes me
back into the bathroom. Then nothing but my
father sleeping. The dream ends. I’ve wet my bed.