Am I yet a pumpkin,
All shelled for hallowe'en,
Mona Lisa grimace roughly-carved?
Here's a trick -
To find my feet
For I have no sense about them;
Another year and my entreaty stands –
Does the flickering of light
Go out within my hollowed dome
When you close my eyes
And take from me the lighting of your own?
© Brendan Bonsack
April 2013