Through the Sole

Didn't see it,

just a dark patch

on the cracked pavement, lit

poorly. A catch

in my step, then cold,

a sudden grab,

wet through the old

worn spot. A stab.

My left foot. Soaked.

The dampness creeps,

insistent, unchoked.

It seeps, it keeps

coming. Not just the water,

but something more deep.

A shiver. What I ought to

have done. What I try to keep

from taking hold, but

it’s there now, clinging, a rut.