Summer 1992 • Vol. XIV No. 3 PoetryJuly 1, 1992 |

Halloween

Fuck October, season of burning,   each leaf a singular flame lit from within, its spiraling   fall like madness, and the toothy rakes clawing piles which smolder all night. Fuck sunlight the color of Halloween   and kids who slip into new skins, anxious to stuff plastic pumpkins   with cloying treats, apples, shiny pennies. Fuck the lighted doorbells, their bright   invitations, the people behind those doors, and the flavor of the season, copper   cider, like the taste of those pennies lingering on fingertips long after   they've been spent—or the metallic taste of sex. Fuck the stranger in a clown suit   who beckoned me with a chocolate donut then kicked the door shut, elbowed   the porch light off, a knife glittering at his ruffled waist, and the table   which held my weight, his, as he forced my legs open, fingers searing inside,   the brief zero of his mouth when he came. Fuck the fear which kept me silent   whe

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