lifting a spoon flowers in an overgrown graveyard — Vishal Prabhu

church at midnight wails of ghosts praying — Alper Ghuchlu

receding tide under the docks served to crabs a corpse — Albert Schlaht

entering darkness a candle gutters wildly in the skull’s sockets — John Hawkhead

beaver moon dislodging the grip of his teeth — Anne Fox

blood-stained hat in hand anything helps — Nicholas De Marino

in silence the chill of onyx — Roberta Beach Jacobson

sooner or later they will come for you wriggling maggots — Deborah Karl-Brandt

new flooring easier than bleaching the carpet — Amber Winter

lampshade a stretched tattoo — Chad Lee Robinson

torn clouds impaled heads mark the boundary — Chad Lee Robinson

painting watching eyes begin to whisper — DJ Tyrer

skulls everywhere halloween decorating for terminal patients — Jerome Berglund

discarded juicebox all the decorations have been taken down — Jerome Berglund

immaculate spines the librarian’s private collection — Nicholas De Marino

abandoned RV on the winding backroad a severed tongue — Rowan Beckett Minor

a skeleton key beneath the welcome mat drips of blood — Rowan Beckett Minor

ghost ships with skeleton crews — John H. Dromey

ghost moon she whispers in my ear — Greg Schwartz

scratch marks on a grave how long has it been since my death — Alper Ghuchlu

predator reflections in a shark tank — John Hawkhead

darkness spreading under the hanging tree — John Hawkhead

dark road a dandelion cloud of eyes — Joshua St. Claire

my breath becomes basalt — Joshua St. Claire

Halloween moon— showing us only the dark side — Mark Gilbert

voodoo politics pins in the pumpkin — Roberta Beach Jacobson

after cremation finding a hair in her beret — Mary Oishi

an eye for an eye we switch again — Anne Fox

night hiking quiet enough for gypsy moths — Anthony Lusardi

late October... my window runs red with ladybirds — Melissa Dennison

locked inside yesteryear glint on my braces — Jackie Chou

reprogramming the alchemist’s scarab AI — Roberta Beach Jacobson

those waifs were eating me out of house and home more soup? — David C. Kopaska-Merkel

dry goods hardly time to choose the right coffin — John Hawkhead

awakening a spider leaves my bed first — Marylyn Burridge

a grove of young ash carved into their tender trunks someone else’s names — Mariya Gusev

upon their release grain mites in a spice jar keep circling the rim — Mariya Gusev

cracked moon the scars will fade eventually — Deborah Karl-Brandt

midnight Gran’s face in the window seems to move — David C. Kopaska-Merkel

still body surfing — Nicholas De Marino

something in my third eye, a dagger — Roberta Beach Jacobson

the coffin a perfect fit for the two of you — David C. Kopaska-Merkel

sparrow and moth a dangerous cotillion — Jerome Berglund

my windfall where worms lie in wait — John Hawkhead

gothic revival taking a breath at his open casket — John Hawkhead

handheld mirror my good side smiles — Nate Gillespie

graveyard gloom the car’s camera senses what I can’t — Chad Lee Robinson

tender kernels the scarecrow’s smile smeared with blood — Chad Lee Robinson

winter burial we all feel the cold — John Hawkhead

coming home from the hospice a bag of silence — John Hawkhead