the haunts stretch
and slip
over the walls
down the stairs
into the basement
to fester
for a few decades
until a plucky eight year old
goes exploring
halloween
Poem #790 – i’m not tough
maybe I dreamed we met on Halloween
because it was expected that we wear masks
both of us donning wolfskin
bearing our teeth
in an attempt to hide
our wool peeking out from underneath
Poem #654
party
party
lights
candy
action