The House Is Full of Water by Chelsea Dappen

The mother floats
across the living room
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.