For the Halloween Contest.
Halloween was when my mother's flowering, cancerous vines
began to grow, little tumerous pumpkins in her heart and lungs.
Her costume was her balding head, chemo and medicine and
distended bellies. I don't recall what I wore. I didn't go outside.
How fitting, death so celebrated by masquerades, and when
she died the following year- how she haunted me, as her body
was similarly haunted by the choking ghosts of her illness. Let
me tell you about fear. Her ghost, like paper lanterns and fire.
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