You ate today you're a freaking superhero.
The circles on the ceiling are close enough to the stars. When you put your head underwater it's like you're at the beach but no one watches you here. In your body and without it let the water fill your ears and feel the echo in the auditorium. Toronto Symphony Orchestra playing the sea and the sky and the inside of your skull so gentle. Ceiling stars melt and become the ocean which is your bathtub: the milky way and crabs, tiger sharks, and phytoplankton. A whole universe softened to listen to. Here in the tub. You have everything you need right here.
Emma Rhodes (she/her) is an emerging queer writer currently living on the unceded territory of the Mississaugas of Scugog Island people. Her work has been published in places such as Prism International, Plenitude, Riddle Fence, and elsewhere. Her debut chapbook, Razor Burn, is available through Anstruther Press.
Photo credit: Connor Price-Kelleher
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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