It Was Here Before the Sidewalk

I tripped on the way to the car.

Same crack I've walked over for three years.

The root had pushed up further since fall—

I didn't see it. Down on my hands,

one knee, wet concrete.

I stayed there for a second.

Got up. Turned around and looked at it.

The pavement's split open now.

You can see the root underneath—

pale, thick, pushing up through the break

and not stopping for anything.

I've walked over this crack

for three years.

It was just a crack.

Now it's taken the whole square.

The root doesn't know about the sidewalk.

It doesn't know about my knee,

the wet concrete,

the three years I walked over it

without looking down.

I have a bruise.

I drove to work.

I took a different route home.