Trick or treating at our dead grandmothers doors and 
dragons who roar in mirrors.  

You have to make mischief
of the morning even
on Halloween.
The ghosts are groggy in the sun--
but we can hear the 
slippers of our grandmothers
shuffle sleepily under the front
doors of their tomb stones--
they're looking for ice cream 
cones and tricker treaters--
they sleep only to the sound 
of doorbells.
Trick me trick me
Trick me into crawling back under the dirt
trick me into the vampire 
on my door step in the morning--
I invite him inside willingly--
it's the kind of day to drink blood
like cranberry juice over breakfast--
we grow bat wings
and candy corn teeth.
I'm twenty now so no one
thinks I belong here in my
dragon costume.
I'm waiting 
outside my dead grandmother's tomb stone
-- gripping a grimacing 
plastic pumpkin basket. 
No it's not a SEXY
dragon costume.
A dragon costume--
with real dragon skin-- 
The one I wore when I was seven.
I can still fit into it 
and I roar in the mirror--
Scale and tail and fire--
oh fear me mirror and doorbell!
I brandish my claws and grin.
When I was seven I was as
thick as a bowl of Reese's cup--
I'm dressing up as a seven-year-old
this year-- wearing claws and 
teeth and fire-- 
When I was seven
I was bold enough talk to ghosts
who hung themselves as dangling piñatas 
in our stairwell--
they told me I was a frightening
dragon- queen- body- warrior
of porches and plastic pumpkin pails.
The conquest of sugar and scream--
Ring the doorbell before
you throw eggs at me--
I'll catch them in my claws--
When I was seven and made a breakfast
the day after Halloween of popcorn
balls and mashed M&Ms--
stirred it together in a cauldron
with a blue raspberry dum-dum
for a spoon-- I whispered spells
to turn myself invisible--
sneak into the day light--
creep on all fours into another Halloween
night where you wouldn't be able to tell
that I was once a girl body 
beneath these scales-- 
spoke only in doorbells
and discarded wrappers on a kitchen floor--
Ask the ghosts if they 
eat chocolate eye balls
and break kit-kats with the vampires.
This year I'll be a seven-year-old
and you'll all be so scared of my scales--
you won't know what to do 
with the body of a creature
not afraid of the door steps of
dead grandmothers--
the girl-body who laughs and
tricks you into inviting them
inside-- vampire and dragon 
and queen. That's what I am for
Halloween-- 
I'll ring all your doorbells
and knock on tombstones
with a fist full of claws
and silver candy wrappers--
Wake up and roar in the mirror.