All is silent.
There is no cool rain this year, no umbrellas.
The wind has ceased its howling,
And there are no laughing children's corpses.
Beneath leaf piles, masked parents lay in waiting,
But not a single child will take fright this year.

The fireplaces crackle, surrounded by
Jack-O-Lantern baskets of uneaten, untouched
Chocolate bars, barrels of uncarameled apples,
Stagnant in moldy water.

No one will come this year; no spirits come
Knocking at the doors, and no michievous
Halloween spirit haunts the vacant city.
Parents gobble up the forgotten treats with
Somber faces, while the forsaken spider webs
Droop despondently toward the ground.

10/26/2006