Fog

In the fog

I confused my hands.

I didn’t know

which one was the left,

which one was the right.

And my shoes got wet

with a rotten dampness.

And my feet were impregnated

by the blackness of the mud.

The right is left,

the left is right.

With which hand do I write?

The left is right

the right is left,

under the fog,

that virgin wool blanket.