Arsenic Lobster poetry journal
Issue Eighteen
Winter 2008
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Halloween
Chris Crittenden

yellow triangles
hover like aches,
ignes fatui
in the gaze
of charmed squash

as children giggle,
guised as old scratch,
zeus, hobgoblins, wraiths-

rabbits and wolves,
pookas and pucks,
refugees
from sarcophagi-

reapers, angels,
rakehells, sylphs

who cackle as they skip,
juggling snickers
and groans,

while the wind knifes
barrow leaves,
lofts them like clouds
of derelict spiders;

and the moon lubricates
her black-cat eye
with a cloudy
witch-cape rush.

About Chris Crittenden

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