Poetry: Between My Toes

I'm on my way out the door, so I'm going to post this poem # 11 for the poetry pledge drive quickly. I hate to keep apologizing for each of my poetry posts, but I am genuinely not happy with this one. If I weren't in such a hurry, I'd spend a little more time with it before posting. Thankfully, I'm getting a little more used to letting go with these though, which I suppose is part of the purpose of making yourself participate in one of these sorts of things - you're forced to give the perfectionism a rest and just get writing.

Between My Toes

We were told not to
Let the sprinkler sit
In the same spot to long,
Or the grass would get
Too slippery. But we were
Kids, and kids don't

Listen when the sun is out.
My bathing suit was on, and
The thought of the first cold touch
Of water held me

Suspended.

I focused on the water
Undulating in the air, my eyes
Half-closed anticipating the jolt
Of freezing streams
On my little limbs, not the grass

Wet between my toes. When I landed
On the sprinkler, the plastic snapped
In half. Opened end to end, my foot
Had caught one
Of the sharp edges.

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