When we first heard from blocks away
the fog truck’s blustery roar,
we dropped our toys, leapt from our meals,   
and scrambled out the door

into an evening briefly fuzzy.
We yearned to be transformed—
translated past confining flesh
to disembodied spirit. We swarmed

in thick smoke, taking human form   
before we blurred again,
turned vague and then invisible,   
in temporary heaven.

Freed of bodies by the fog,
we laughed, we sang, we shouted.   
We were our voices, nothing else.   
Voice was all we wanted.

The white clouds tumbled down our streets   
pursued by spellbound children   
who chased the most distorting clouds,
ecstatic in the poison.

  • Andrew Hudgins, "In" from Ecstatic in the Poison. Copyright © 2003 by Andrew Hudgins.  Published in 2003 by The Overlook Press, Peter Mayer Publishers, Inc. New York, NY, www.overlookpress.com. All rights reserved.

  • Source: Ecstatic in the Poison (The Overlook Press, 2003)

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"With a $20,000 prize, I never imagined POL being this much fun. The competitions were more about meeting and talking with the other competitors, having a great time and enjoying the poetry. I also never knew I could find so much in myself just from reciting poems."
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