Hallowe'En Horror: Self-Reproach Poem by Glenn Bagshaw

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When the present spews over all you were
and dear ones deem you an October shade,
(breeze-cursing ghost that's blown away) . They're sure
your guts are glass. They leer. Friends watch you fade.
Knowing all you've failed, looms, some angry moon
that beams its glare where candled skull marks shame.
See you're scooped, chewed, upon a cauldron's spoon
and spat when tongue chants harm to charm Fiend's name!
So crawl, now grovel back in time to blame
dreams in unclaimed graves or puff of smoke:
that's you...No! rather crows in wind will poke
stalk-veined legs of straw: You're staked, shredded, lame.
A bookcase photo shows your early self
dressed as boy pharaoh. Dust-dunes entomb that shelf!