Halloween Husbandry Poem by MARINA GIPPS

Pumpkin carving. This could be our child
you're paring right now. Like Gepetto
in Pinnochio, the son you harvested yourself.

Your shoulders look so broad as you slice
into the shell of sleep and seeds, well-seasoned,
one million high school sweethearts put to rest.

Sleepy hollows of the night, I see you
removing the insides of this naughty crop,
fading remembrances of the soul.

The pain of your precision found in novenas,
how the knife you bought yesterday reminds me
why you wear orange glasses, a hallow's eve vision,
glowing on a doorstep, pretending to not be home.

Don't excuse yourself for cutting into
this head you call 'Anton', blaming me
for drawing his teeth so small-
Why our son Anton loses teeth.