Sprinkler Burst

Sun hits hard; heat smacks the cracked concrete.

A burst of water hits—a cold slap—

droplets slam bare arms like fists,

piercing heat with small explosions.

Water arcs catch the light,

cheap glass beads shatter and fall,

tiny fists knocking loose sweat and dust,

catching summer’s heavy breath,

splitting dry air with sharp cool.

I sit still, caught in the sudden cold,

spitting dirt and sweat,

wrestling the relief and sting,

a sharp crack of water in a dry world.