Halloween in the United States, 2017

We learn that Irish folk
carved turnips
to light the way of welcome
for wandering spirits,
and Mexicans picnic in graveyards
with tamales and empanadas
pan de muerto,
calavera de azúcar,
and great baskets of marigold
to honor the dead.

Here, turnip becomes pumpkins,
and small costumed children
carry pillow cases
with parents lurking behind bushes,

but behind them I see ghosts
of world wanderers —
a long beggars night
of Syrians and Rohingya,
of those awaiting deportation
from prisons cells,
and those denied visas
because of their homeland’s name,
while the Statue of Liberty
stands as our tallest
masquerade,
this sad year of trick or tweet.

And as for the Day of the Dead,
I begin with those I love,
then also children
of the Mexico City earthquake,
the wind-slain of hurricanes Harvey
and Irma and Maria,
the broken of Barcelona
and London and Charlottesville,

those who were in the wrong place
at a Berlin Christmas market,
a Quebec mosque,
a Coptic church with palms,
a Las Vegas concert, a Mogadishu hotel,
and so many others.

This year I carry a great weight
in marigolds.