By Emily R. Daniel

CW: abuse

Silhouette of family looking at large aquarium window with fish

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.

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