Poem by Danielle Weeks

August 15, 2023

The Universe as a New Aquarium

Snails smaller than a fingernail
on the side of the tank, mouths
pressed to the glass. Real glass,
heavy and tempered. The tank

is a risk, could suddenly burst
and flood the hardwood floors,
the corner of the living room.
Would you believe I’m jealous

of this snail hanging in solitude?
Such a carefully planned world
made clean at least once a week
while the snail breathes in new

water, waiting outside the world.
Imagine such a thing: the universe
lifting every planet, moon, and sun,
wiping off their leaves and stones

with a soft cloth, giving the unsure
bodies a place to rest outside what
they already know, air to breathe
with nothing of themselves in it.

About Danielle Weeks

Danielle Weeks earned her MFA in poetry through Eastern Washington University’s creative writing program. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in 3Elements Literary Review, The Missouri Review, Pleiades, and Whale Road Review, among others.

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