Once upon a morning after,
while I pondered Hershey wrappers,
candy roiled inside of me
as I recalled All Hallow’s Eve.
A toga made from old bed-clothes
hadn’t quite covered–so I froze.
The wreath I’d made for my head
caused a rash that seemed to spread.
And so I scratched and retched some more,
crawling slowly ‘cross the bare wood floor,
resolving thus: “Nevermore.”