The
mother floats
across
the living room
in her fluorescent suit
in her fluorescent suit
and
bathing cap.
She
snorkels over
the
wet surfaces.
Beneath
her, the shag
carpet
wiggles like tiny
fingers
outstretched
toward
the ceiling.
Wearing
identical masks
to
help her identify us
as
her children,
we
raft past the formica
table,
the floating mother,
and
the television.
Sister
makes an oar
out
of a chair leg.
I
use our waterlogged
remote
control to paddle.
Mother
does laps like a champ
around
what is left
of
the memorabilia.
We
hear a violent noise
above
our heads.
Father
is upstairs,
trying
to stick
his
hands through the floor.
