October 31st, 1998
After our mothers turned into coyotes
& tore into the woods, moonlight silvering
their fresh furs, we sat on your porch
& instead of trading candy, traded Pokémon cards
by the light of a jack–o–lantern’s mouth —
an exchange of Eevees & Clefaries, monsters
from the moon — & listened to the melancholy
howls swim above the tree line
with fireflies, pulsing brightly, periodic
match strikes twinkling closer —
until we scattered them, squishing our hands
around your flashlight & beaming
its shivering jawbreaker
at the woods, where our mothers left us,
& were now waiting, cloaked in oak & pine,
the night a sweet, dark promise.