All Hallows Eve

a cackling witch

bright red lipstick

her high pitched screechy voice

clothed in black tatters

a fire burning

a pot boiling

the twiggy broom she flew

all staged in the garage

an annual event

she boiled babies

served up their flesh

in strips to sample

orange celophane

dry ice

and slices of bologna

I was young

scared then

but I could not

look away

from her strange show

year after year

mesmerizing me

she’s still alive

no longer cooking children

aged now

in a dank nursing home

her flesh wrinkled

the drama of diapers

assuring me

I’m a good boy

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