Ian Keenan


Halloween - Poem by Ian Keenan

I see bits of pumpkin
orange on the wooden floor,
the knife still wet with juice,
a small sock fallen half-way
down muddy stairs.

The night claws in,
the cat a sleeping smudge,
the rabbit haunting its dank hutch.

I eat toast,
staring at old photographs,
ears crackling for the shrieks
of my two black-faced,
fang-toothed sons,
the tricks and treats of my existence.

Topic(s) of this poem: poem


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Poem Submitted: Friday, December 4, 2015

Poem Edited: Sunday, December 20, 2015


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