Rachel Armes-McLaughlin

I wore my favorite shoes,
rubber-soled, out in the rain
to keep me grounded on the Earth.

Black canvas tops,
white laces –
covering my warm feet,
feet walking down
the asphalt hill
at twilight.

Cold, cold rain –
late winter,
early spring.

The heavy waste bag
keeps me weighted,
fingers numbing
from the looped strings,
arm tired, and my shoes
grounding me in the rain.

Suddenly:
wet canvas, cold toes.

Water rushes, ripples
down the blacktop,
spreads,
covering my feet.

All I feel is cold,
here and now.

Moments later, walking home
from the dump bin,
umbrella is blown by a gust
and I feel more weightless,
vision blurred
by foggy, rain-spattered glasses.

And as I walk,
the sound of my soaked
but grounded feet:

Here now,
here now,
here now….

Rachel Armes-McLaughlin has written poetry for nearly 25 years. Her work is published in The Chaos Section Poetry Project, where she currently assists as co-editor; in venues such as Loblolly Press, Middle Mouse Press, and Medicine and Meaning; in a Central Arkansas
Library System anthology; and elsewhere, with one poem nominated for Best of the Net and another nominated for a 2025 Pushcart Prize. Rachel lives in the very red state of Arkansas with her husband, Jack; daughter, Isabelle; and four cats. You can find her on BlueSky at @mother-poet.bsky.social.

This poem appeared in What We Hold On To: Poems of Coping, Connection, and Carrying On — Winter 2026, published by The Chaos Section Poetry Project.  You can read the full collection or download a free PDF of the chapbook here.