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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 10, Number 1, March 2016

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Iris Lee
Brooklyn, New York, USA


Halloween

Fern and I are flying all around our neighborhood, while whirling dry leaves circle our ankles like cats. For the first time in our lives, we are out at night with no parents to accompany us. When we see the glow of a window, we land, ring the doorbell, and cry out the ancient ultimatum. We are in command: a tribute in the form of sugar, and we leave the inhabitants in peace. An unanswered door, or worse, a slammed door, and the victim will regret it once dawn appears. We rise, soar, touch earth lightly once again. Whether I am attired as witch or devil or ghost does not matter; what does is that I am a new being. I've left my gray bundle of daytime timidity behind on the ground. On this one night, the world belongs to us, instant raptor-children, the meek made bold—

October night—
West Wind gallops through—
ghost of the poet

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