Again Little Coffins Filled With Candy

Acorn debris and inexperienced squirrels,
skeleton costumes on childless adults
too old to trick or treat, too young to stop
wanting everything they had or wanted.

The wind today turns cold for the first time
and the lovely Martian landscape begins
its journey to a Pennsylvania farm
or a village in western Maryland.

Now we could spin decades instead of years
back to the last time we did or went where.
How trivial it seems as we light the first
fire of another winter that should be

no more the last than others, just closer.
The ghost in the mirror, no longer a child,
is still not a real ghost, nor the pumpkin
a monster to be feared more than mirrors.

* * *

M. A. Schaffner has work recently published or forthcoming in The Hollins Critic, Magma, Tulane Review, Gargoyle, and The Delinquent.  Other writings include the poetry collection The Good Opinion of Squirrels, and the novel War Boys.  Schaffner spends most days in Arlington, Virginia or the 19th century.

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