In the fog,
she laid in lace –
fused to the street.

I counted to ten,
covering my face –
we were playing hide and seek.

Accompanied by angels
in a choral service,
we still couldn’t ask for forgiveness.

We drank fish bowls of gin to shun our faults,
we wanted our sight to be slight –
and time to halt.

(poetry group prompt: We had a list of words to choose from and I ended up using all of them. I can’t recall all the words on the list but “choral” was one of them.)