Description:
The State of Affairs
in this small carroll town on an up down
crouched street in a wood-boxed backyard
you'll find four pumpkins my children spent
hours stabbing & styling up for fun they
once sat side-by-side on the front porch for
weeks with a burning feeling inside of them
but now that the ghosts have been traded for the
gobbles the welcoming crew have been cast
out into a pile of warm compost they are all
slowly becoming disgusting their slanted
eyes eroding their demon brows browning
their frightful mouths mushing love left long
ago & that rise & fall fluttering feeling is just
the pitchfork turning the pile soon
the hackberry leaves will fall
& cover it all
long life
desires...
breaking down reality
we are
all
just
pumpkins
-Victor Clevenger