Hallowe’en Howl
LindaAnn
LoSchiavo
"Don’t
take faucets for fountainheads. /
Drink
tasty antidotes. Otherwise /
You
and the werewolf: newlyweds."
—
"All Hallows’ Eve" by Dorothea Tanning
["Coming to
That," Graywolf Press, 2011]
A Hallowe’en meet-up in an arcade.
Attendees scattered, trying out the games.
When urgency rushed me towards the restrooms,
I found myself alone — the cellar vast,
Emptied, as if I had strange power here
To vanquish strong men who’d try stopping me.
What was I doing? Then an
open door,
Marked "Do Not Enter!" beckoned.
I approached.
Some portal opened as the floor gave way,
Transporting me, suggesting words I’d need
For that realm’s hangman or its coroner.
At last, a forest filled with wolves appeared
With knock-out roses trailing crimson pools.
Wait! Was that blood? A wolf man speared my gaze —
A lycanthrope, seductive, muscular.
Our hungers shirred sly seconds’ fearsome
ticks.
I bartered pale virginity for his
Gifts: reckless bliss and immortality.
His kiss-bite burned away my sweet tooth stuck
On stale normality. Trick or treating
Arrives each full moon — our red meat lovefest.
