The day before, the bones scatter on the valley floor,
helped by the clean-up vulture crew,
laid out to dry in the sun.
There is a photograph hanging of the witch of Endor,
grotesque in its details, she is all warts and wounds
and whatever the cauldron cooks up.
Lazarus lurks in the back of a cave, bound in white bandages,
like a child dressed for a Hallowe’en party,
giggly and wriggly, expecting some fun.
It is not always darkest before the dawn.
Sometimes the very night is alight
with anticipation.

This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Hallowe’en

  1. Sam Hubish says:

    Again very nice Rosalind. I had to lookup the Witch of Endorhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Witch_of_Endor this is what I found. Fascinating.

    Thank you for your blog.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s