October
Papery orange
Chinese lanterns blossom—blaze
above cracked asphalt,
silver-flecked charcoal
tar spread as far as we two
can see from Goose Hill.
Baby’s finger points—
please, to touch, sniff, tongue tender
jack-o’-lantern skin.
I brush a veined leaf,
seize and squeeze a stem—a head
lopped off. The child squeals.
Hush, I scold, peeling
back four clasped leaves to reveal
the poison berry.