Home » Poetry » Day 174 – Jack-O-Lantern

Day 174 – Jack-O-Lantern

I raised my hand for the knife.

No happy-rot to take over me, I wouldn’t
let it end that way;

there
must

be more than living selfishly,
dying accidentally.

I let it take its cut of me,
winced, prolonged, to feel its motions,
intricate tattoo-chair surgery,
my pumpkin-belly scooped
of all its turmoil,

shell-dry, emptied, open.

But there shall be fire inside of me,
a candle lit for all the dead and warning,
a beacon to lost souls
and a martyr mouth, grinning

for this final feast of guts and generosity,
the maggots shall then never eat again.

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