I want to grab your stem and carve you like a pumpkin,

Scoop the fleshy seeds out of your pulpy core

And roast them in my oven for a late-night snack.

I want to sculpt your grin like a jack-o’-lantern,

Using a flick of the wrist or a flip of the whim

To shape your lips into the mouth of my choice.

I want to create the cast of your eyes

As wicked and decadent,

And abandon you totally to a haunt of despair.

I want to hold my breath in baseless superstition,

As I lodge my pagan fire

In the hollow of your shell.

And I want to trick your treats

Under this absent midnight moon.

For this eve belongs to lost souls and sinners.

Confession and contrition

Are too holy for us now.

Copyright 2013

(For the Ninja of Japanese Beetles)