Hollow End

They tell me it's Halloween tonight,

the streets are nulled with shivering kids

while crumbs stupidly fall off our lips.

I should have dressed like a fairy,

but instead I ache like a fallen

pear, dropped for an impossibly subtle

purpose. We're handing out my bruises

to all the spiders and cowboys, tonight.

Shudder.

The window's still open

from when I

aired out all the summer dust, hoping

that you would stop by for a holiday:
It is a holiday, isn't it? Or is it the

summoning of a gracious omen,

using the tossed aluminum and

rejected pocket-poems as a sigil...

What a sight!

What a night!

A lascivious prayer answered

when the rain has at last stopped,

A paragon of sunlight

floating before me, commenting on

how clean the bed smells.

Yes I know, I spent all day in here.

And then rummage through all

of my picture-books with a smile.

That's my dad on the beach, having a beer.

Then somehow find me,

once so far trembling

and now so far near.

And the torches of the kids

keep the room so well lit!

Cauldrons, barricading doorways

to keep jealousies at bay!

No one is going to call you anything

so long as the night carries on,

full empty nests and puppetry.

I'm summoning my omens.

But soon I'll close up the floor

knowing full well you won't make

an illuminated visit.

I've spent a year chewing through

your shifting lore.

And I doubt I'll miss it.