Revenge of the Pumpkins

by Bill Gainer

It rolled from the porch
and laid there like a rotting corpse.
Flies and gnats
flew from its mouth,
it turned soft,
took on an odd odor.
The dog rolled in it
and was banished from the house
until after
the first big rain.
The lawn died
where it fell.
Two full seasons later
and still
nothing grows there.