this mumbling fog lurks tonight

across pointed shadows,
living between triangles of manufactured light,
pivoting between and around one another accordingly,
shaping themselves how they are queued to.

this smoke reflects against unlit windows,
like these dogs that howl in chorus,
breathing a shift of movement into the air,
leaving the city under a bested silence.

a finely tuned design
that these empty streets
may speak without interruption