Summer at the Grandparents'
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.