Just another horror
shuffles with
arms limp, lifeless
mute moans
fall on deaf ears.
I leisurely grab the crowbar,
its steel feels good in my hand,
strong,
solid.
Not like this thing,
one more monstrosity
shambling across
bloodstained dirt
–hungry for my flesh.
Its own hangs
like tattered clothing
off its broken and bruised bare body,
menacing in its nakedness.
The crowbar feels cool in my hand,
good,
strong,
solid,
right.
Not like this thing
that could kill me with the slightest scratch,
weak,
soft,
as far from right as possible
–as wrong as the absence of feeling
I feel
as I cut it down
–so ordinary, so commonplace,
like swatting a fly.
I am clothed from head to foot,
armored against this plague:
leathered skin,
taut muscles,
cool gaze,
hardened heart,
solid,
strong,
proof against pity.
The numbness in my soul
cancels all.
*Image courtesy of BigFoto.com
**poem written on 2016-07-13
***If you are in the Cleveland area this weekend, don’t forget about the free writers’ conference tomorrow! INKubator is being held at Cleveland Main Library. Registration is required for the classes, though there will be other activities such as an open mic event and a resource fair.
Yay, Love it. I’m enjoying the evolution of your writing, thank you for sharing.
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thinking about it there aren’t enough Zombie poems!
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Oooh that monster got owned! Survival of the fittest via poem. Wonderful!
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Definitely Survival of the fittest! Nicely written
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