He stepped outside
and rubbed the fog,
its pliant hide. What's
inside you? he asked.
No answer. Just muffled
rumblings. Suddenly
a woman's hand emerged,
caressed his cheek and neck.
"Come in," a female voice
said clearly. He entered
the fog. In there, faces floated
like unlit paper lanterns.
A chorus of moans arose.
He turned to escape, but
elsewhere had vanished.
He was inside the fog now.
He moaned.
hans ostrom, 2013
No comments:
Post a Comment