They kept the pumpkins

Long after they had rotted

Long after their smiles caved in, prematurely wrinkled,

And long after the black mold seeped in

Through what used to be eye sockets.

They had be delicately carved

With so much care

That only a ten-year-old heart could bother

To go so painfully slow,

That her hand would cramp up

And she would have to take a break

They kept the pumpkins because they made them together,

Her and her older sister.

The sister who sat on the stone cold steps

One chilly afternoon to help ten-year-old girl

Carve a face into a vegetable.

They kept the pumpkins because how would they tell

A ten-year-old girl

That they last thing that she ever did with her older sister

Will be carelessly tossed into a garbage bin

To be taken away by a man who does not care

Similar to the man who didn’t care

Driving the night before

When he hit a 17-year-old girl

And did not

Stop.