[dVerse] May 7th - The Fog Has My House Keys

The Fog Has My House Keys

The fog comes in
like it has been here before.

Not dramatically.
No doorbell.
No throat-clearing at the gate.
No screaming.
No door-slamming.

Just a soft trespass
over the balcony railing,
through the laundry clips,
past the basil plant
that has seen too much
and says nothing.

By midnight,
the buildings lose their surnames.

The streetlights become
small government offices
processing applications
for disappearance.
Outside, men in uniform guide
dispossession in a line.

Even the stray dog
below my window
forgets his argument
with the moon.

I stand there,
holding a cup of tea
gone cold from wilful neglect,
and watch the world
misplace itself politely.

There is mercy in this. (Please...)

How kindly the fog
edits the city,
removing sharp edges,
pending bills,
unanswered messages,
the exact shape
of my own face
in the glass.

For a few minutes,
I am not required
to be clear.

Not daughter.
Not employee.
Not woman definitely.
Not a worker
with a calendar full
of practical weather.

Only breath.

Only blur.

Only some small animal
passing through the chest,
quiet-footed,
unclaimed,
already leaving.

~ Oizys.

Written for dVerse Open Link Night #407. Inspired by their given optional mini prompt from Carl Sandburg’s Fog, especially the line “The fog comes on little cat feet.”