Hallow’s Eve

in the real world hills are for cemeteries

from a distance the gravestones might as well be stumps

or teeth waiting for the other jaw to descend

a woman lets her rottweiler run

a gravedigger operates a small backhoe

i browse the headstones as if they were spines of books

GIVEN says one and i feel guilty for killing time

try not to look over at the mountain

its growing rash of fresh stumps