Sunday Sonnet [Brought Forward For Seasonal Purpose], #18, 2015


A face carved for fear; a mask of orange

flesh illuminated to protect from

evil, inhabitants here hidden, on

tender hooks, waiting.  This simple orange

visage, fanged, eyebrows raised up (an orange

head poised to at demons shout, holler; come

from a field of brethren grown there, as one

raised for purpose singular).  Blaze orange.

Vulnerable this flesh, cut and sliced, angles

sharpened for greatest terror, yet soft skin

so edible, easily consumed in

variety of ways, the flesh (angel-

like when sweetened) and the seeds (salty when

toasted, crunchy too).  Pumpkin, I crave you.

[Copyright © N R Nolan 2015]

[Image sourced from Wikimedia Commons]