By Emily R. Daniel
CW: abuse
he told her
to act right
but they couldn’t
agree on what
it means
with her belly
draped over
his thighs
his hand slaps
a broken rhythm
on the snare
she hears
each beat twice
once on its way
to her once
returning
______________ rat-tat
from tiled walls
of the aquarium bathroom
where he lifted
the baby changing station
like an unmade
murphy bed
to make room
for this
she keeps
eye contact
with the cartoon koala
whose diapered Joey
sits in its lap
listens to children
on the other side
of the door
squealing
as the skin
of stingrays
pass under
their palms
Emily R. Daniel is a student at Western Michigan University whose poetry has been published in The Bangalore Review, Sylvia Magazine, Sixfold, and elsewhere. Her chapbook, Life Line, was selected as a winner of the Celery City Chapbook contest, published by Celery City Books in 2020. Emily lives in Kalamazoo, MI with her family. For more information, see www.emilyrdaniel.com.
Why we chose this piece: This is a tough, uncomfortable, and heartbreaking poem to read, but so well done. The jagged rhythm and line breaks echo what is happening. The details of the bathroom and aquarium are horrifically perfect. We appreciate the way Emily is very specific about the abuse; she creates a strong sense of unreality that contrasts well with the setting.