Visibility Zero

The streetlights are smudges of sulfur and rot.

I’m walking to the pharmacy for something to sleep,

but the sidewalk is a thing that I’ve forgot,

buried in a white that’s three layers deep.

My wool coat is heavy, drinking the air.

The mist hangs on my lashes like a slow, cold salt.

I could be anywhere, or I could be nowhere,

and the loss of the world feels like my own fault.

I can’t see the curb or the edge of the park.

Everything is softened, a wet, gray blur.

I’m moving like a ghost through the muffled dark,

trying to remember who I used to be, or were.