‘Twas swift and churlish, black moon wind, bemoaned
By humans, mummers grin, darker
Half now settling in, equinox throned
Alone, until sunwised torches flicker,

And candled skulls smile in Samhain prayers.
Wind faster fluttered Jack-ò-lanterns flame,
Impersonating liminal layers,
Rapacity-haunted, hallowed acclaim.

Hell Houses sinning, drinking, depicting
Bonfires brimming; souls fling, flying, bound
To life by relative vigils, offspring
Guising self, trudging black burial grounds.

‘Twixt purple dusk and morning blue, phantoms
Hover, fed and wined, as if held ransom,

By Time.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 10/17/16