by Ellin Anderson

Cast downwards with their slighted lord
From heights to make a seraph dizzy,
Dark angels fell — an angry horde —
And they’ve been busy!
A thousand fabricated gods,
And paths to Hell, through blood and honey —
Aghast, I ask: What are the odds
That Hell is printing money?

(Happy Halloween, everyone!)

The author is an Orleans County resident, published poet, and occasional contributor of poetry to her local newspapers, and to the VDC comments section, where this poem appears today.