Halloween Moon

Halloween Moon Just one night. I get my way. It’s okay to wish ill of the living and ill of the dead. I smile at the grey craters. They beam back at me. Then my ill conceived wishes are granted. Three wishes allowed. Each lasts the year. Ill gotten means to ensure karma is secured. First, to the dead. I stare in the grave. An ill mannered soul suffers their regrets. Second to the living. I insist on pain. A sweeping ill-fated failure because I hold a grudge. Third, to me. Cold shadows surround. The gift of three more ill-wishes come the fullness again. I am nervous. The sky is full of bright, drab light. It grows in size to envelop the space behind the dark trees. I thank it for the illness and wait until it shrinks away.