Libby Feltis

Floating Face Down

The neighbor’s house was Navy blue with
a window on top
Out of which
A woman would watch me And I swear
Rather than hope
That the woman was
My mother
Or maybe
Just her reflection

I was alone
In the back yard
In the fall
With my kiddie pool
Its surface skimmed with leaves
Gold-green and red
The air was crisp like September
Seven months after she’d gone
To the other side

I knew
Or perhaps the woman’s
Reflection told me
That if I flopped face down
On that still water
And held my breath
Long enough
I’d reach the other side, too

The tension of the surface
Gave way to a coolness
So soothing to the ache
Of my grief
My face swollen from
The tantrums of a child
Terrified each time her
Father dropped her off
At pre-school
that he too
Would never return

I floated there
Face down
With the leaves
My arms spread in surrender
Breath held and stubborn
Waiting for the blue liner
To flip to heaven
Where my mother
Surely was
Her arms outstretched
Ready to catch me

But she found me
The chain-smoking nanny
My father had hired
If not to nurture us
Then to feed us
Lettuce and mayonnaise sandwiches
The nutritional value
The same as the water
In that pool

The bad nanny
Pulled me out
By the scruff of
My soggy Disney sweatshirt
I don’t know if
She ever told my dad
Or if she kept it secret
Like the way she made us
Nap with our underwear
Off

I can’t stop thinking
About why my mom
Called to me
To join her
Me, only three
And her, forever thirty-one
Maybe she knows something I don’t
About my future
About my body
And its hidden cells
Maybe she knows I’ll
Die like her, too

Maybe it’s better
To float face down
Arms open, ready
Than it is
To wither away
Like a ghost
No one dares
To talk about