Skip to content

Chapter 1 – Rage

what deathly flourish
might I artfully apply
to my artless sins, if I should tell
you I am the dark outside the
door;
the bump in the night;
the hex bag beneath your
loveless,
broken bed;
I am the lovebreaker himself,
who drove your love away,
who engineered this
seething
meanness in you

would you be ready for the
witching season
if you discovered
you were the costume
concealing the beast within
that you,
linked by bond,
belonged to
the darkness, and the
black goat burned
inside you

the monster you’re looking for in this
story isn’t rattling around in some
forlorn closet,
it’s lurking in the
pit of your
gut,
charging you up like a
heat storm,
waiting for you to
burn out,
blow all your cylinders,
the bars of its prison,
and let it
free to set this
Halloween nativity scene
to screaming,
and then to bleeding,
and then to dying in the
lonesome October

© 2020 Shane Douglas Keene

Published inPoetryThe Halloween Book

One Comment

  1. All the Truth: “the monster you’re looking for in this
    story isn’t rattling around in some
    forlorn closet,
    it’s lurking in the
    pit of your
    gut”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *