The Collar
It was dark and he pointed at the street. ‘There is frozen?’, the guy said in an accent. Hungarian or something. I said yes, the street was probably frozen.
‘But I cannot see ice’ he said, ‘How can you know there is ice?’
I said that you just had to expect it, in this cold. You had to expect ice this time of year. The dog pulled at the lead, my husband’s dog. If the dog was pulling at the lead it must have been cold.
‘I need to be careful, right?’ the guy added, smiling and pulling his collar to his throat, ‘The ice cannot always be seen here.’
Rich Fox is from Shropshire. He has had poems published in several collections for Poetry Now, commentary published in layoutmagazine.net , and self-published ghost stories. Some of his work can be found at theuprightman.blogspot.co.uk . He is currently doing an MA in European Literature at University of Bristol.