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the air is escaping slowly as she floats at the top of the water pretending to be dead

she wonders what her mom will say when she finds her here

when she opens up the sliding glass doors balancing a tray of lemonade in her arms

and sees her only daughter in the water

her hair darker

curling around her head like a halo

she wonders if her funeral will have daisies or chrysanthemums

if the boy who picks his nose in sunday school will be sitting on a folding chair

and if it will rain like in the movies

and people will be huddled under umbrellas with raindrops lingering on their overcoats

women with smeared makeup

men who check their watches and clasp their hands in front of them, impatient

and if grandma lucy will cry

if susie and rebecca l. will return her barbie doll clothes or keep the gold wedding dress and floral pant suit forever and ever

if her father will come back

if her mother will put out stale crackers at the wake

she moves her arms up and down against the heavy water

forgetting to stay comatose and frigid and still

and then she moves on to her back

to become a mermaid child

small and fluid

and wrinkled as the sun goes down across her backyard