The pumpkin's hollow head returns her gaze;
His yellow eyes are dancing in the flame.
And she, she has him on her window sill
Within a draft that flickers on his brain.
His jagged smile and diamond eyes
Are mirrored in the darkened panes.
Set to be seen, not see, to blaze before the wind
Or wither on the wick and snap black out.
Grinning backwards into the room.
On either side and looking in.
His gaze, she feels, was sharply cut
To burn beneath her dresses' hems
Or follow her when reaching for the broom;
She wears the latest fashions as her age
But feels the flicker of his gaze
And will not pass near him.