A panacea as if by design
grown in flower gardens and in the woods,
healing all ills and ails as if divine,
unless the frost blights its womanly hoods.
Two-faced as he comes and goes,
yet never leaves, year to year,
this god of doors and keys knows
that life and death both draw near.
Unlike the other carrion birds
seeking to feed on the heaped-up dead,
these have beaks stuffed full of pungent herbs
and poke pustules that need to be bled.
Buyer’s remorse from wish to wish,
quite the fickle-fingered fetish.
This captain’s face conceals a killer
in a classic Halloween thriller.
A trick, a treat, a type of floss
which, when used, can lead to tooth loss.
Beware the hair of the dog
that bit you when near the bog.
Look for the silver lining
when the full moon is shining;
All packed and ready to go,
four men confronting spectral fear,
crossing the streams where they flow,
should a puffed-up mascot appear.
A snake coiled within your lawn,
with or without my hinged head on.
It all hinges on where you tread,
because though these teeth are on the chain
they snap closed on what they are fed,
jaws springing to life without a brain.