pumpkin carving

His face appeared arbitrarily:
I just sank the serrated jack-knife
blade into the orange eye socket,
sawed away, and there he was.
I was dismayed to see the dead
in a jack o’lantern face, but he refused
to leave, just lolled on the table
leering at me. When I lit the candle
he glared all night, smelling slightly
putrid, as pumpkins and road-kill will.
If I carve another, will his twin appear?

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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