Dear Pumpkins,
Your orange orbs lend bright color
to the browning of autumn.
You sit on doorsteps, sliced ghouls
of Halloween, inviting dancers
and demons to beg for candy from strangers.
Thanksgiving has you sliced and baked
into pies, breads, muffins, and cookies
to tempt forks to over ingest.
Oh, fruit of the vine if only you could
escape the abusive marketing of capitalism.
You are candled, latte cupped, wall ornamented
into satire because of the feminine exuberance
of spice and orange addiction.
I’m sorry, not sorry, I’ve succumbed to temptation.
There is a bit of pumpkin this and pumpkin that
around my home because your scent and sightings
bring joy and feeds my dark humor to annoy.
Can pumpkins give absolution? If so, I should petition Oshun
for forgiveness, but then I would miss my husband growling,
“Stop with the pumpkins! Houston isn’t even close to sweater weather.”
Insincerely,
Susie
©Susie Clevenger 2024
Comments
to the browning of autumn."
What fun! I enjoyed every bit of this, especially the dig at capitalism, and the succumbing to it. It's hard not to! I wrote an entire prompt on pumpkins, which I then ditched as being unfair to those unfamiliar with the gourds. But Pumpkins give me lots of joy!