HALLOWE'EN
//
lights growing low and dim, full of flickering,
occult store like a spiritual beacon,
drawing the lost, the afraid, the misguided
shadows caught in the current of the night.
the dogs that ran away, or ran inside,
the clouds that took over the sky
before the dark took over the clouds. it's a night
storm. it's a night storm and all the hidden
things are on their way in. it's a night storm
and all that was once out and gone is now within.
and we have houses donning homes like dresses,
and the inhabitants who believe in the act,
who grow afraid when the curtain shimmers,
who visit the occult store twice a week for protection,
who leave on all the lights, even when they flicker,
even when they grow dimmer,
too terrified to do anything but shiver,
but listen to the dog growl and the wind howl
and watch as the dead draw nearer,
and watch as the dead draw nearer.
A/N
HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE !
YOU ARE READING
Ghosts Lost & Winter Found
Poetrywhen you steal all that's evil and bury it underground: these are our ghosts lost and this is our winter found. collected poems from 2017 [ © 2017 by shaye ]
