Halloween
The pumpkins don’t smile
Until after
They’ve had their brains scooped out.
Then they are so simple
On the stoops and in the open
Doors of barns.
But it is not the faces the children have
Clumsily carved
That makes them come alive.
It is when,
After the dark has fallen like a branch
Too heavy with honey,
They go from each to each,
Reaching a kitchen match
Through every other
Triangular eye.