Where a Witch Is Rumored to Live
Where a Witch Is Rumored to Live
One house is always dark on Halloween.
A tooth missing in the grin of the street.
The kids go up to the door anyway,
Taking courage from their costumes,
As if, if something were to happen,
It wouldn’t happen to them
But to whatever they’re pretending to be.
Waking to the doorbell, she remembers
Her daughter telling her that last year
What she wanted to be. A butterfly.
“Tinker Bell?” “No, just a butterfly.”
“Just a butterfly!?” she said, tickling her
And hearing — for the first time
In forever, and the last — her laughter.