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      December 1, 2014What I Remember as My Father Is DyingBeth Copeland

      My sister calls it “a spanking,” but it wasn’t
      a spanking. He yanked my ankles and held me
      upside-down, hitting my bottom and back with
      the flat of his hand like a doctor trying to force
      a newborn baby to breathe, but I was nine
      years old, listening to my sisters plead, “Stop,”
      “Daddy, please stop,” until he dropped me
      to the floor, and I ran to my room, crying.
      When I tell people, they’re shocked. How could
      he, they ask? What could you possibly have done
      to deserve such a beating? What I don’t tell them
      is that it was better being battered than being told
      what a bad girl I was, so selfish, so ugly, so un-
      Christian, that the brunt of his hand on my body
      was a blessing because it meant my father’s sin
      was greater than mine and I had been forgiven.

      from #44 - Summer 2014

      Beth Copeland

      “I wrote my first poem when I was fifteen years old, a rhyming poem using synesthetic images. Of course, I had no idea what synesthesia was, but the process of writing the poem was so exhilarating that I stayed up all night writing a second poem. The next day I showed the poems to my high school English teacher who said, ‘You’re a poet!’ I’ve been a poet ever since.”