Creak
stairs under footsteps
floorboards of the worn front deck
the opening front door
our screams at the pale face
dripping blood from red-stained fangs
coming through the door
The accented “good evening”
before he fills my pumpkin case
creak feet scampering into the night
For dVerse Poetry Pub’s Quadrille 43
Frank J. Tassone 
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