Specter Quickening

On Halloween, the heat finally lifts.

I take up my sneakers and hoody,

run amidst

bashful pirates and precocious witches.

A first.

My periphery populated:

Mini-dragons, penguins and Batmans haunt,

but I keep pounding,

fleeing the disquiet of home

but knowing the specters of the time and place.

I’m parting predators mid-street.

Finally beyond the neighborhood.

Quickening at the elementary school's sight

North of the Loop. Pausing

at the medical construction site.

The dozers and dump trucks

sleep, the tools of man yearning

for a cherubic hand to give them purpose.

Wind dry-biting my face,

I collapse at the knees,

heart primed to jump out of my neck.

Hot arms, icy hands.

Baby’s breath swelling my lungs and throat.

Simple, I huff inwardly.

Something simple.

Something.