Floating (Poem 222)

Crows like bickering 

   demons foraging 

     in the rustling cornfield    

cicadas endlessly 

     whirring whirring 

   in the cedars   the whole 

world bleached 

white and gold and dry under 

   a dazzling haze of moisture 

      and dust and pale blue sky 

and    me    

alone    floating 

   on my back 

in the neighbor's 

     above-ground pool     

seduced by the chilling

illusion    that I am the last 

human-being    on earth 

in the oppressive   hush

   of a workday afternoon 

     in the middle of the week

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six