My father does not see me
through the wave of alcohol.
The tide rises and falls.
I am wading alone ankle deep.
Unexpectedly, the surf subsides
just enough
Dad raises his head,
the texture of the couch
branded on his cheek.
The red veins in his eyes
emphasize the green as he
looks me up and down.
“Wow,” he says. “You really have gotten big.”
Muffled words
aimed directly at my ass
crash over,
pull me under, I
want to disappear, standing
in tight pink sweatpants with my
stomach and thighs and butt, because Daddy
just saw me, and he said I’m fat.