Hallowe’en

Hunting for apples

through the brown autumn

in your gross faces

with the long noses

and the crooked eyes.

Children

I offer you love.

I offer you

the round apple of sin.

I offer you

the charred face

of the posthumous

demented one

I offer you

children

for your fresh faces

your apple cheeks

your faked hunched backs

memories of the fire

the sickening stench

the pale witch floating

under the red moon

of a crooked evening.

The long body

the thin pointed nose

the head shaking.

In a deserted house

an armchair rocking.