Poem 20151031

every halloween, the pillowcase
was filled
so much candy
and we had to pour it out on the table
and we would pore over the pieces
look for broken wrappers
and put aside
everything homemade
or open
along with the pencils
toothbrushes
and religious tracts
that explained why halloween
was evil

then the candy was sorted
chocolates with peanut butter
into tier one
other chocolate candy bars
with familiar names
into tier two
chewy candies into three
and then hard candies
suckers
and candy corn into
the pile
that we didn’t care if someone snuck
a piece

the candy would last
almost until the first of the year
and then
out
out
out

and i can still smell
the plastic of the inside
of the mask
held to my head
with an elastic band
that always seemed to break
two-thirds of the way through
the walk

Poem 20151025

the sheet may as well
be made of lead
heavy and hot
and my limbs won’t move
.
in the dark
only my eyes travel
tracing a flicker
of lights cast by the clock
against the ceiling
.
but with lights
come the shadows
here a hand
there a sharp profile
almost human
.
and always the sound
of heavy breathing
and the weight of the sheet
.
sweat slicks my forehead
my head refuses to turn
from side to side
only my eyes obey
and at the side of the bed
in the shadows
something darker
something breathing
that doesn’t have lungs

—–
Check out Monster Masquerade from Poet Rummager. Hat tip to Elusive Trope for bringing it to my attention.

Post 20151024

Here’s one of my infrequent posts.

I just posted something a little spooky. Probably not too spooky. But here’s the deal. I love Halloween. So I’d like to offer a challenge to anyone who still reads this (my stats indicate I don’t get many actual visitors). We have exactly one week until Halloween. For each day, pick a Halloween theme and write a poem. For example: a trick, a treat, something scary, a Halloween memory, anything as long as you can relate it to Halloween. Tag it with “halloween challenge” so I can find it.

No prizes. Who am I, Rockefeller?

Poem 20151024

in the dark the whispers come
a scratching at the skull
from the inside
tickling the skin
but below the skin
like a tingling nerve
after the lightning strike

no amount of scratching on the scalp
can ease the irritation
and the tingling travels
down the spine and deadens the legs
turns the stomach and the guts
to ice water

the lights flicker
or is it your vision
and the whispers
stop
a mercy
until you hear the doorknob turn
and the creak of the floorboards
as the weight of feet announces
an approaching, unseen visitor