Answer:

As she pleases

• If only words dilute sediments at the bottom of my gut; if only a tongue can let this pain hydroplane into a song.

• If only I did not get up from the soft eggshell mattress of my old bed; if only I played the lazy student card and stayed behind.

• If only they warned us; if only I/they listened.

• If only those raindrops were not as fat as freshly fed eels; if only I camped out in school and waited for hot bread.

• If only I did not swim in dark floodwaters; if only I did not stare at the flashing blue traffic lights that screamed end of the world.

• If only they did not shout, “repent, repent, repent!” while navigating atop broken concrete barriers; if only I/we did not shout back, “yes!”

• If only I did not open my mouth; if only I did not close my mouth and stopped breathing instead.

• If only I came home earlier; if only I came home later.

• If only no one died; if only everyone died.

• We/you were never the same after the flood; somehow you came out of that dirty dark floodwater with your tummy swelling with survival and your heart still paddling its tiny arms to safety.

• Maybe you like staying there; maybe you like that dank bile.

• Maybe there’s never been a way out of the flood; maybe you do not see a way out of the flood.

• Maybe this is where you want to be; if this is where I want to stay.