<%@LANGUAGE="JAVASCRIPT" CODEPAGE="1252"%> Horror Poetry by Price

 


10/31

by Lisa Price



In a plain sheet with holes, you
are now eternally

a ghost, orphaned
from a history but no less a

ghost. The child
with no known past is still
a human. The

future is less
defined. Solid hands under
the sheet

grope for sweets in plastic
pumpkins. Oranges surround

sound. On every porch
a toothless face to match your mouth-

lessness. At every doorbell a child
no longer. You

are temporarily
forever dead. There once was

skin. Pretend
does not exist. Every
body distorts

to receive tempting
specks from inside a stranger’s home.

 

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© Price, 2006

Lisa Price is an English major undergrad from New Jersey who now calls California her home. She spends most of her time writing poems and tutoring college students in English instead of getting her homework done, and she does it all in orange Chucks.