Pumpkin Patch

By Nicki Kay Dallmann

I unhook the gate latch to a world of pumpkin patch.

Where they shine under leaves as if gems,

Dancing like fireballs on the end of their stems.

The orioles sing songs from heaven sent,

As I linger in choosing my ornate ornament.

I hold it up high in replace of the sun,

My divine celestial globe, my ormolu chosen one.

Artisan with blade I will carve you a glare

More grotesque than Medusa’s stony stare.

Later when the goblins close in on the day

Your ominous grimace will scare them away.

My nostrils filled with thatch, God how I love the pumpkin patch!

        Gathering of the Women
        By Nicki Kay Dallmann
        
        We are the Witches who inhabit your community.
        We gather in the forbidden house,
        Tucked conveniently in a haunted wood.
        We are mothers, daughters, soul searchers.
        The only spirits that are summoned
        Over bubbling pots of barley stew,
        Are the ghosts that haunt our pasts.
        You know the ones I speak of.
        They are the reason you step back when we suggest.
        They are the reason you call us Witches.
        We do not have secret powers or transcendental reassurance.
        We are hesitant, isolated women;
        Concave where there used to be an abnormal lump.
        Women in Recovery, seeking a safe haven.
        A Coven, determined to exorcise our evil demons.