All I Need to Do

The water is surprisingly warm, perhaps
from the changing tides.
I can feel, even just with my feet in,
slight tuggings of the river pushing inland.
I hate that to me, the water looks like Coke,
I wish I could think in more poetic terms.

I slide forward letting my weight glide
my feet through the murky sludge,
the bank debris is small and smooth
leaves, algae, duck shit, silt and soil.
It takes my weight and sucks me down;
my toes tip forward as if I could slide
into the middle of Kwoorabup Beela.

All I need to do is let go.

The dark tannin waters cover my knees.
I’m close to the tipping edge,
flexing paperbark holds me up from deeper waters,
but I have enough stones to sink.
I’ll glide down in the murky depths
to lie in the belly-scratching left by Waugal.

Small flop from fish pops in brown water
as they search out a meal.
I’m not moving, just hanging with toes in clouds of miasma.
It’s a mullet or bream, not that I know.
I’m closer to the inlet than the wellspring
so it’ll be these fish and gilgies that get a feast.
I wish I’d gone further upstream
to feed the lamprey. I like lamprey.

My arms grow heavy,
All I need to do is let go.

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Sarai Mannolini-Winwood (she/her) is a writer, poet, and literary theorist, and is generally intrigued by how we make sense of ourselves through our craft. She has been longlisted for the Furphy Literary Award 2026; her poem ‘Come, Monday’ won the April Wakefield Press Competition; and her work appears in Eunoia Review, Emerging Possibilities, and Bright Flash Fiction, among others.