Burning children

[Keith]

I’ll open the door with a flamethrower
taste the sticky sweets of hell
if one more boneyard finger
reaches up to press my bell.

Set the dog loose with her tooth
turn fake blood into real
and listen to their screaming
as the hell-hound finds her meal.

But warmth is only a smile
plastic pumpkin full of sweets,
goblins, ghosts and vampires
drag parents round our streets

and if the dog sneaks out the door
she’ll lick them clean to death
run around and chase her tail
to complaints of her bad breath.