Cookies
She smiles, they swarm around her, small beings
with huge eyes in masked faces, ‘trick or
treat’ their voices swell, fill her ears
with singsong as she holds out
the tray. Arms reach out, small
hands clutch, dig deep,
push against soft
flesh, nails dig
deep, cause
blood
to
surface.
She staggers,
almost falls, calls
out loud when fingers
pinch, nip at worn out flesh,
grasp tight as words that taunt fill
the air, echo through the silent
night, sweet cookies for everyone but
cookies are not on the menu tonight
Copyright © Gloria Watts | Year Posted 2012
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