Summer at the Grandparents'
by Danielle Burhop


We went because they had a kidney-shaped pool,
and because we could bring the cat. There was

even a barrel where the storm water fell; grandma
filled it with goldfish. While the boys cannon-

balled, I clutched sand from our sandbox and
poured it defiantly into the pool. Each doting

adult gave chase, while I attempted to right
the hard pool surface below. The deep-

end was my haven, where sitting for seconds,
I was able to control my small world. Except

for the pool bottom; its jagged teeth were soft
each bathing suit I fed it. The pool pillowed

my hearing, blanking out the buzz of on, on,
on. Blinking upwards, I watched the boys frolic. 



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Danielle Burhop is an IAS undergraduate student at University of Washington, Bothell, and is an NSCC alumnus. She has been published previously in Exile and Twice-Bloomed Wistaria. She can be found traipsing around The Loft with bewildered ESL tutees, and posting snarky tidbits at www.everypoet.org.