‘Fog Warning’ by Liz Young It is dangerous to attempt to retrieve anything from fog/ the name of your sister’s dog/ the right door/ evaporates/ will not heed when you call/ no recall in dense/// fog/// go slow/// put your hazards on/ let others know you are dealing with fog to maintain the correct distance/ but if or when/ then/ keep expectations low/ strangers will flash articulation/ synaptic claps blind/ your dim road/ path/ trail// footprints// track/// go back/// iron out the one sentence you have/ fix it straight/ repeat/ write it down for posterity do not imagine/think/ fog will last/// forever//// the current forecast anticipates one hour before dissipation// it may feel like several days/// ablur in brume /// singing each verse of a theme tune to perfection//astonished that a mist though familiar settles in a room you have entered///expectant as hunger that your hand will find what you came for//or was that yesterday// or before when fog shifts your lost words will return/ migrating kittiwakes drop your syllables/ wayward eggs/ into the right nest too late for your unfathomed tongue// left unsaid when your fog lifts there may be rainbows About the Author Liz Young is a non-fiction writer living in Sunderland, North-East England. She has a background in illustrated book publishing and is a former co-editor of Kindred Spirit magazine. Her poems have appeared in Magma, South Bank Poetry, 14 and The Alchemy Spoon. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Like this:Like Loading... Published by fragmentedvoices A small, independent press based in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, UK, and Prague, the Czech Republic View all posts by fragmentedvoices