Halloween (2019, #1)

they are knocking on my windows,
men with thin fingers and
the appetites of wolves.
Their breath fogs the glass,
stinks through the windowpane:
abandoned barns full of
hollowed cattle,
skin turned brittle,
the too-sweet smell of
rotten grain.
They are thin as shadows,
their fingers work through the storm-guards,
sliding easily into the room.
they are standing and
watching me sleep,
these men with thin fingers
and the appetites of wolves.

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