Small Town Fall

The vampire gnome, the gnomepyre,
Black felt cap, fake fangs, fake blood
Running down his grizzly beard,

Considered the rituals
Of costumes, food, and monsters,
All that made for festivals,

The playful overturning,
Misrule, overtures to death,
Loved by anthropologists,

So much culture to describe,
Group behaviors to explain,
And explanations there are

In plenty, but none of them
Really work, do they? Stories,
Something about transforming

Into story characters,
Out of the humdrum of life,
Something about preferring

Mythic, narrative endings,
No that’s not it. The gnomepyre
Wanted to participate,

Nothing too complicated,
Wanted to be sufficient,
Knowing explanation

Wouldn’t, couldn’t ever be,
Among children dressed for death
And elders busy dying.