I don’t have daddy issues	I have a daddy and he
spanks me like a promise	one day I came home
from the bar and smelled	like tobacco and PBR
and you know how scent     is the most powerful
trigger of memory well	        I remembered being
slung low in the leather	of your car every week
for visitation and I didn’t	have anything against
your trailer park it’s just 	that I didn’t want to be
chased by rough boys in      Guns n’ Roses t-shirts
I didn’t want stray cats to	follow me home I didn’t
want splinters but it was 	too late for all of that the
local pool was full of 		blood just like summer
and the woman who sat      perched on your peeling
counter like it was hers 	made me squirm with
her bare feet up and her 	mess of fried orange hair
that looked like it                   tasted of pennies once I
whispered mom’s name       into the darkness for
hours trying to bring her	back like bloody Mary I
never whispered yours	        not once but I do still
cry when Roy Orbison          comes on the radio now
when I speak I open	        my mouth all the way
now when I break glasses 	I curl into a ball and
someone else cleans up       the mess now I don’t
have daddy issues I have 	a daddy and he spanks
me like a promise
Erin Marie Hall

Erin Marie Hall

Erin Marie Hall is a poet and visual artist from South Bend, IN. She earned a BA in English at Indiana University and now works as a program coordinator at the University of Notre Dame. Her work, which explores sexuality, mental illness, the body, and the apocalyptic, has appeared or is forthcoming in Unlost Journal, After the Pause, Rust + Moth, and your nightmares.
Erin Marie Hall

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