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  • Writer's pictureHil Hoover

heavy buckets

content warning: mentions of current events/war as well as my usual illness/grief themes

I wanted to go out on a better note but couldn't manage it today)

i want to go trick-or-treating

but what looks like a piece of cheap plastic

feels like an albatross tonight

i, who sit down each year with a handful of

friendly dead for a meal, who write letters

to long-dead lovers, who live and breathe

romantic witchery,

can't stop reading and re-reading the message

the sister of my friend of over ten years

sent across a border

to another member of our gaming group

"i think you guys got me"

about real bombs

and i've been living with the understanding

that i might not live until next samhain

and i've been riding wave after wave of fever

with not enough medicine myself because

poverty is terrible

and yesterday my son was in the hospital

seizing and seizing and seizing

and i've been staring down when i'll have

to move my life to the street

because my friend can only let me live here

so long without paying

but in the midst of all that

we still want the taste of chocolate

and rainbow-colored sweets

peanut butter and laughter

"wait, let me guess, you're supposed to


and most of all, that thin veil, because

we want to be less scared about

what comes after, believe there's something

or maybe, believe that we can be scared

and still be okay.

pick it up, help me carry it

let's go get some candy

i want to tell you about a friend

and her sister, and my

very sweet son

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