I’ve never believed in anything

the way I believe in a Virginia fog.

You can almost see the hungry seraphim

searching for something to eat

among bodies blending with the haze.

Living ghosts smelling of gunsmoke

and history. Every inch of this state,

a grave. All of it at once a haunting

membrane spread thick, seeping through

the cedars. I am afraid I will never leave.

That God lost me here in stomach

acid, left me small and swallowed.

I reach out to touch my reflection in

the nearly solid mist, and I miss.