Halloween Special

Shove off from shore, the whispering wake of
slipshod ships will martyrs make of
wily women with tortured tongues and
broken backs as they escape
The blood-red moon, a burgeoning banner
it rises ready to cradle their channel,
They'll row, renewed, careen then crest
through waters warm and carrion-weft
That brackish black bite drags down dreams
of the hungry, the hardworking, basic and brave
smothered in summer heat, meager and mean,
stomachs empty since seasons unseen
each bloated bump of corpse to boat
A ghoulish growl grows in their throats.
Oh, It bites like bile, but meat is meat,
and conscience quelled they fight to feast.
Their fear fades and drifts to the deep,
strength seems to swell as they gnash their teeth
a frenzied foam as they descend,
devouring mother, daughter, friend till
full to burst they claw to shore
forever seeking something more
to haunt those who hunted them before