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Halloween in America

Dogs dressed as other animals

The gauze that hangs over houses

reminds me of sickness

 

The church does confessions

by appointment. I know a priest

is not a therapist

 

I am not religious
Just somebody tell me

I’m their favourite

 

I am ashamed of the lengths

I’d go to. Red leaves spin

where I kick them

 

She orders us coffee. I see the pale

part of her gums, we leave
the café separately

 

Come November, cut pumpkins

will rot from the inside
On the stoop they bear it

 

I buy gourds from the market

I will build a cornucopia
To desire begets indignity

 

So what, I’ve permitted this much

I’d let her tell me the same
story over again

 

Young acorns underfoot
Another dog knows it’s been made

to look the small fool


ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTOR

is a writer from London. She is currently a Poetry MFA candidate at Columbia University in New York City. Her poems are published or forthcoming in New Ohio Review, Image, The Tangerine, The Manchester Review, and Banshee. Two of her poems were selected as finalists for the Indiana Review 2021 Poetry Prize.

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