Tonight's Poet Corner: Pumpkin Face
Pumpkin Face by Belinda Roddie My cheeks ache as if they've been carved to bits by something serrated. You try to call me beautiful, but I think that word's negated. My molars are sunken like orange pulp; my eyes droop like the dickens. I may as well be left to rot and pecked away by chickens. They call me Jack, but I suppose that Joke is more appropriate. In the late October evening heat, I guess that I'll just acclimate. You stick a small fire in my jaw and let me glow in twilight. My job is to entertain the kids whom to your door you still invite. Their teeth will fall from their heads, too, after all the sweets and candy. So if they end up looking like me, well, that'd be fine and dandy!