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Music notes swim on Samhain's
haunted autumn air, a calling for the new year.
My steps rise in crescendos
and spin at the rests; the taps mirror
a soprano’s metronome.

There was never a reason to know
why not to dance in Her moon's delicate glow.

My robe sways around
as I follow the Mother's, my White Woman's, tune
to time-mutated iron, painted in flaking black and rust, found
open for all to enter. I pause, about to swoon,
and gaze up at Her fullness's might
in waves of purifying Dragon’s Blood and sage
incense, then, to a circle of white
candles, I twirl- dancing down the now-caged
Devil’s Road. Hiding in a Willow's silvery
tears prance the dead. Leaping, laughing; a spray
of joy and other bodily fluids; then the cavalry’s
hands grab my hips, and I’m off to join the decay.
How was I to know
not to dance in the full moon's glow?

They forced me between two cadavers, most damage hidden
by shadow. The one in front had no jaw or nose to find,
dressed fine in a dirt corset and half a worm-ridden
skirt, topped in shedding colorless hair. The one behind
I knew from school. He was ten, with a flat gut,
the bus treads still touchable. He mouthed “Hello,”
and knew my name, then explained his poor luck
of coming to this grave. This time every year, fellow
forgotten, remorse-filled souls floated through
the veil separating the living and the not. The musical pen
paced even, but the scenery sped. My feet refused
to discontinue as I tried to tear away. I realized then
what I needed to know
about dancing under the full moon’s glow.

Dawn chased away Lady’s night,
and I found myself crawling to grassy covers.
As I saw the my marked tomb,I didn’t fight-
the truth barricaded me lower.
All along, was this really where I lay?