backfloating

i tilt my head back, and my body floats
gracefully upwards, flipping like a log that
has been dropped headfirst into a river.
i am not in a river, though, the sharp
taste of salt in my mouth is unmistakeably
sea
i can feel my nose burning and salt drying
on my cheeks, and my hair floating away in
ropey tangled strands that will be hell to
brush out when i get home aching and tired
i bob like a loose cork, my arms stretched
outwards, wrists loose, water ebbing, flowing,
skin-pricklingly cold, the seagulls cry and it
is like they have lost something but i have
found everything, everything i need, this
is all that is and this is all that will ever be
and the skin on my fingers is tight and wrinkled
but if i dried up and died like this would it
be so bad?
there is a roaring in my ears and my family
are somewhere near by with cheap K-mart
boogieboards and toddlers with chubby knees
poking out from lycra bathing shorts
maybe
or maybe they are gone now
and all that there is in the world is me
and the coldness of the ocean
and the heat on my upturned face
and the sad cry of the seagulls
somewhere
somewhere
above.