To Start the Fall Proper | Clyde Granzeier

In an old fortress barrack 

Gather up all the ghost stories 

You can fit into copper wires 

And clapping hands

And serpents and lizards

Carried in silk 

That can’t steady your eyes

Darting from, dashing from

The newest monsters 

Made of candles, wax dripping

Book pages moving in the 

Breeze through the cloth 

Stitching of moons and moth

Keeping a bag within a bag within

Each tent you’ll find an early

Funeral, neon, carnival

 And sometimes it will be

Covered in sugar 

Or smell like patchouli 

Feeling wasps you cannot

See crawling about your

Skin is a home for every

Strange part of self 

Raised on spider-leg hairs 

That one day you could

Smile at with 

Candy corn pressed into 

Your teeth 

A determined, fanged mimic

But that can all come later

For now, just enjoy the festival