You sent mist

By the bridge, tonight,

you sent mist,

mingled with wood smoke,

it caught in our throats,

curdled the darkness

that clung to our clothes,

shrouded the river

and swallowed us whole.

So we ran to those places

where you could not go –

now we hide behind windows

and wind-battered walls,

peer through the haze

as you pick off your prey

and glitter the pavements

with silver and gold.

Tonight, you sent mist;

tomorrow, who knows,

so we shiver and shuffle

through amber-lit rooms,

as night falls on night

and ice grows on ice

and curlicued fingers

tighten their hold.

With candles and blankets

we push you away,

but silent as moonlight

you slip through the cracks

and captive, you hold us

in thin, fractured sleep,

until in the morning

you'll count up your souls.