(
pumpkin carver)
(i)
halloween '94
her father placed
his hands on hers,
co-pilots landing airplanes.
the jack-o-lantern
grew beneath their
benevolent fingers,
a struggling
hero rising to his feet
and grasping his sword.
(ii)
but now
days pass like messengers
hurrying off with
telegrams of soldiers
killed
in wartime.
and the moon
hangs broken off
like hallows' day when
she saw her pumpkin
purpleheart smashed and helpless
courage coating the pavement like blood.
(iii)
maybe that day,
no one was there to
mutter anything but
nine's too old to cry,
es-PE-cially over pumpkins
but fairy tales have
happy endings,
and now this is one.
when she noticed your face
imprinted on her memory like
the eloquent script used for
happily ever after,
you flew to the sky.
we are carving the moon together.