a crumb, a pick, a morsel
of brain inside the pumpkin.
must be why the corvids
are about. cops are stumped.
town is spooked. now, there's
little over two weeks till all hallows'
eve and there's gray matter in
a pumpkin. not even a week goes
by; and cats are a give away.
next gourd with a litter purring
about had a couple of fingers
inside. maybe a toe. whole bloody
business was turning me off candy.
between tricks and treats, I'll take
whichever gets me to keep my pieces.
suspicion runs with worry across
the streets. rancor waits behind.
some monster in a man, sits and bides
his time. when you hear a bell this year,
pause. do you want something sweet?
do you want to be his next crime?
you better stay in doors. no need to cut the line.