HALLOWEEN
and I am carving a pumpkin.
It started as blossom yellow, the first color
you become when your liver fails.
Ms. Smith is way beyond this.
I cut out the top, reach in,
dig out the seeds. Some fall back
into the hollow; just as she
slips into the dark
only the dying know.
Eyes, Nose. Sharp teeth. No ears.
I slice a little wedge out
of the cap for air flow, push
the candle into the base. She has gone
past pumpkin orange, in fact
not even pumpkins turn
the red-gray-green she
has become as her new liver
fails. After tricks and treats
the mouth will look like hers,
sunk in and soft. Halloween’s over,
I burn the candle a few more days.
Just because I like it.
