Liquid Willow Hoop
By Patrick G. Roland
On Memorial Day, I peeled back the winter pool cover and found drowned nightmares: eighty-seven wolf spiders, two garter snakes, six mice. Nothing my new AI-powered Vacsweep 3,000 couldn’t erase. The machine purred, swallowing legs, scales, fur. By afternoon the water looked harmless again. Blue, open, forgetful.
Some nights, at three a.m., when the house seems to be holding its breath, I slip my head under the water, listen for what clings. I shake loose the noise, the weight. Then I run the vacuum again, slow and methodical, circling the deep end. Just to be sure nothing survived the winter.
Patrick G. Roland is a writer and educator living with cystic fibrosis. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and appears in journals such as Rattle, Hobart, Sky Island, scaffold, Maudlin House, and others. Twitter: @pg_roland