He stepped outside
and rubbed the fog,
its pliant hide. What's
inside you? he asked.
No answer. Just muffled
a woman's hand emerged,
caressed his cheek and neck.
'Come in, ' a female voice
said clearly. He entered
the fog. In there, faces floated
like unlit paper lanterns.
A chorus of moans arose.
He turned to escape, but
elsewhere had vanished.
He was inside the fog now.
Hans Ostrom's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Gothic Fog by Hans Ostrom )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(1644 - 1694)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1612 – 16 September 1672)
Dr John Celes
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
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