I’m watching zombie
Movies and the phone
Pinging with
Fits of neuroses
Squeezed into strait jackets
Not even a silver of moon
And everyone goes feral
Happy, bland faces
Gnawing at people’s futures
To feed a belly adapted for
some notion of justice
it is a hunger
Bland and cold
Relentless and puritan
The mob, clawing
And I turn the movie off
But it doesn’t end anymore
Does it?
I finger the faded bite scars
Remember how I too
Shambled and bit on
Hearsay
But I’m human now
Forgiving and puzzled
By how mindless hunger
Is mistaken for hilarity
And the disinfecting
Sunlight
when (read another book)
It’s all too close to beautiful
To see
The headshot rebuilt
My brain
And I shut the door
Hear their nails clawing at the door
Wonder when they’ll come
For
Me
MB Blissett 