October 31

"How long before my daughter learns her royalty won’t last..."

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My daughter is
four and holds
Halloween candy
like a scepter
past burnt 
orange oaks
and a town
kneeling souls
at her approach.

How long before
my daughter learns
her royalty won’t last
through tomorrow’s
steaming red harvest sickle?

When is she?

My fingernails grow winters 
faster than the azure light differential 
dormant in her eyes.

We all have white skeletons that’ll never feel sunlight.

We all dream youth-drenched symphonies, first kisses under Christmas trees,
             reminders that we can’t control the time it takes to see through mirrors in the dark.

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