Fog by Lauren Haldeman

Fog was born from a room 

It made upon entering 

Another room, carefully, 

With the length of two chains. 

It lifted a ladder into the elms. 

It laid out the network 

Of black and white fires. 

Fog is hard to explain.

Just like fog. Fog just is.

Its shadow’s a death clock.

Birds are walking on it.

Did you see the barn swallow? 

It saw the barn swallow. 

A lawn-sprinkler spreading 

The moonlight like mace. 

And people through mirrors

Watching people in mirrors

Turn from mirror to mirror 

Is Fog’s favorite place.