there is no available canary however the yellowscream of a fox that has splintered its legstrying to outrun its own end may suffice —one could almost believe the old dog simply ambledinto the light of the waxing gibbousthat daybreak would not disclose his shellrigid as glass in the violent dew —forty years my grandpa workedOhio railroads iron tree branchingfrom southern hollers sending coal sapstout as moonshine to sweeten gluttontongues of the near north’s factoriesin his foothill town we can’tdrink water from the tapwithout sickening, we shower quickbefore blighted with inexplicable rashit has been this way so longwe don’t ask questions —daddy just home fromthe industrial glue factory peelsCalvert chemicals off his fingers,clicks his tongue,sighs vinyl chloride?—that’s some toxic shitmama says she’s just glad they’d had usbefore he was ever made to touch it —not a hen in the countywhose eyes would catch the peonysmear of another mountain daybreaka legion of spotted bass belly up in Leslie Run —The fish yesthere was an impact to those. However— —Schrödinger’s cat of my mother’smaybe-cancer. practicallyuntestable, the ovaries that mappedthe half of me, child to uncageat the foot of a floodwall mural proclaimingWelcome to the Atomic Cityfist of this tyrant kingdom: my cityof industry, my city of atom bomb,my city of warheads, of plutonium keptclandestine, of slow killingsaccomplished to more efficientlykill, of truths & metalsforced undergroundI know where the river runs& looking odds in the eye will break me —someone somewhere is always dying& someone somewhere else pays a mortgagewith their finishing breathnow over a state line, now over a border —another business model another cost-cutanother behemoth on a flimsy trackanother layoff another shift another shiftanother layoff another consultantanother cost-cut another hedge fundanother business model another acronymanother euphemism another denialof appropriate protections another cost-cutanother layoff another business model anotheracronym another shift another shareholder another AIwithout oversight another bottom line anothereuphemism another axle bent to breaking another behemothon a flimsy track another accident anotheraccident another accident another accidentanother poison found in the river that raised us — Opened in an impoverished regiontrainloads uraniumfor bombs exposure into the 1990s by thenplutonium permeatedthe land fishing pondscampgrounds the communityhas no idea “I was toldthis Paducah— it doesn’t matter here” —We all know how these stories go. —norfolk southern numbers games: one-fifth—of jobs cut in the last five—years, the slide to understaffing, precisely scheduled, to reap fifty-billion—dollar valuation, for company railroading on a brake system one hundred fifty—years old, battling courts against upgrades that could dent their fifty-billion—valuation, ensuring the environmental disaster of nearly fifty—cars derailed or damaged, eleven—of which contained highly hazardous substances, prompting the company with a fifty-billion—valuation to offer as damages to the city five—american dollars per chronically endangered inhabitant —[an impact][a conflagration][a migraine][an understanding within our nerves][a weepingin the creeks][a sinking salamander][an evacuation zone][a rigor mortis][a gradual massacre][a dogdead under moonlight][a patientconsequence][consequences][a seepinginto the earth][of us, our animal][bodies, our delicate cells][their chorus,discordant][disquiet in our][queasy guts, our groundwater][if there is nothing][that could harm us][whyare our arms][newly blistered][why][are our throats][too torn][to speak] yes there was an impactHowever—
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Dead Fish
East Palestine, Ohio
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“Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Dead Fish” from END OF EMPIRE: by Marissa Davis.
Published by Penguin Random House on July 1, 2025.
Copyright © 2025 by Marissa Davis.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.
Alex Peterson
Marissa Davis is a poet and translator from Paducah, Kentucky. Her writing has appeared in Poetry, Narrative, Gulf Coast, and Prairie Schooner, among other journals. Her chapbook, My Name & Other Languages I Am Learning How to Speak (Jai-Alai Books, 2020) was selected for Cave Canem’s 2019 Toi Derricotte and Cornelius Eady Chapbook Prize. Davis holds an MFA from New York University and was a 2024 Ruth Lilly and Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Fellow. Following years in Nashville, Tennessee, and Brooklyn, New York, she now lives in Paris, France, where she is pursuing a master’s in Editorial, Economic, and Technical Translation at the Sorbonne Nouvelle. Her full-length debut, End of Empire, is out from Penguin Books. Her website is marissa-davis.com.
“Spanning rural Kentucky and Greek mythology, accomplished debut End of Empire by Marissa Davis (July, Penguin Poets) begins at the ends. Only in the fragmentation of language at every point (syllable, thought, place) and by any means (en dash, line break, blank space, brackets) can the landscapes of the collection (environmental disaster, plant life, Blackness, the Bible) become real . . . After the flood comes the sun, these poems weathered by the relief and withering.”
—Poetry Northwest
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