It hit me hard, in the kidneys
that fog. It came on a Thursday
in September and lasted all winter.
I wouldn’t be defeated, though. I turned
right round and swiped hard, blow
after blow, after blow.
But its strength was silence.
Grey and relentless, it rolled over me,
swallowing my muffled cries. Drenching
my wounds in its drool.
Against the wall of flesh, my fists fell
limp. I staggered blindly before I
© Jacqui Thatcher 2015
Today’s prompt was fog and I really enjoyed writing this although I suspect that it is a ‘work in progress’ rather than a finely tuned poetic instrument!