October
Donna J. Gelagotis Lee
Month of color,
Death disguised.
The earth’s turn,
Awkward, for
One’s eyetooth
Is candy now
And sugar is
Multicolored.
October is a hair
Dresser’s nightmare.
The witch warms up
To winter, bones her
Broom to bristle
Quick, stirs her pot
Of munchkins so
That it steams.
October is a fog
In your mirror
With a ghost’s eye.
Seems October will
Remind you of decay
Anyway, though you
Make fun of it. Put
A candle in your carved
Gourd, a spiderweb
On your doorstep. Who
Will walk in?
Who will open
Her bag of tricks?
And you will put
Something in. The kids
Will place their round
Faces at your door.
They will dress like
Monsters. Their
Parents will wait
In the dark just
In case. Because
The night is holding
A pumpkin over their
Heads. It follows them
From house to house.
You’ll see the witch
On her broom, hear
The doorbell and
A knock. Your decoration
Worked. The color of
Autumn has dawn
Crawling at night
To your door just
When you thought
To put out the light.
