Halloween Moon Fire
flares orange in the black night sky
firing memories of past lives,
a blood-wine glass shattered from its stem
spewed into space to reflect a blaze of events:
loves whose embrace I knew, without the faces,
impossible to recall in molten image.
This event-scape is fading into a grit of ash
spirits, hovering in reaching rays
come to touch me, carry me
to a galactic star-festooned bier
where in my end I join the throng
of earth-departed, who loved their brief time
in reflected moon-fire glow.
Katherine L. Gordon
Feast of the dead, 2014.