Concrete Trap

A sharp snap—boot caught cold

on twisted metal lip, slick with moss.

I fall, skin scraping concrete

and rain washing over cracked edges.

The manhole cover waits crooked,

a flat moon lost among jagged slabs,

slick with grime, alive with cold.

A trap set deep in the city's skin,

and I, careless, stumble through.

The city’s teeth grinding underfoot,

harsh and uneven,

a pain that blooms slow and stubborn.

Now my ankle limps

and the cover just sits,

a quiet predator hiding in plain sight,

waiting for the next careless step.