Vigil

The summer that my father left I drownedmy snuggle lamb inside our kiddie poolto watch it bloat. My audience of beeslabored and spun among the buttercupsgrandmother no longer mowed herself.I too took turns, wringing out the plushinto my mouth to gag until a gagno longer worked. The flood stung my ears,crackling like hymnal leather creasedwhen I gave my breath and plunged my faceto hold it under, screaming you stupid bitchin little bubbles that always brokethe sun. Each try went longer than before.You're getting close, I thought the bees might sayas I clawed up, dazed and gasping. Resolved,I promised I'd stay down and brave the burnif they kept vigil there, striped like throatschoked amid the shrieks overcome at lastby an engine's growl against the moonfading into night, still as a body floating.