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Chapter 3 – October Lament

October came and robbed us too early,
threw us at winter, deprived us of
the fall.
Color, light, warmth;
washed out memories.
We came through fall without a
whisper of orange to grace the trees,
and now that necessary
shade is absent but for
posters, picture books, and
front-porch pumpkins;
everything is painted in
black and gray,
and if I look in the mirror,
so am I.
Walking these grim
Eastside sidewalks
in the gloom of gathering dusk,
the burgeoning moon seems
to mimic as it ogles the struggling
Earth beneath it,
hanging in the sky forlorn,
odd angled, blue. This
Hallow’s Eve we all carry
doom like deadly nightshade
in our pockets,
harbingers of our own
desecration. Demise
notwithstanding damnation,
the day dies gracelessly
beneath the weight of
October skies.

© 2020 Shane Douglas Keene

Published inPoetryThe Halloween Book

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