Running Dishes

He let me know this spooky
dress-up costume Mommy sent
is not for me and so we leave
it in his bag. After all,
I’m going as a poem
in spite of his advice:
poems are not scary!
I grin and scribble more.
Shine a light on family
secrets, spark irate debate
from friends and huffy sighs
from lovers. In between
we sing a little star that
twinkles. He ad libs
verses of the shiny moon-
friend, cows jumping and
a rebel spoon. Sparks
winking in innocuous
rhymes all the time.

Inspired by: Irate, Light, Innocuous, Spooky and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt dress.

Same old Samhain

Rising from the endless depths

to see these

celebrants of bloodcurdling

horror and macabre death

appropriated from

the ancient Celts

and Indigenous present.

The weight of wisdom

inexplicably inciting

excited misguided

attempts to be other

but sexy,

trying on wicked outfits

ignoring the lurking

tropical storm just humming

in the perfect conditions off the coast.

The oceans get warmer and we

continue our blind imitations.

Samhain at sunrise

bonfires lit in darkness

the liminal time

to host our dead.

The gateways are open

and so our young don

their superhero capes

knocking on the doors

of our hearts, asking for sweet

mercy, and we fill their questing

hands with poison

the slow death of sugar

as we try to align ourselves

from the outside in,

and we find our costumes

just don’t fit.

 

Written for the #OctPoWriMo prompt Endless and inspired by: wicked, bloodcurdling, dead, weight and tropical.