We first played this game as children
some three thousand miles south of here,
clattering out of screen porches
and down back steps onto cushioning grass.
Here my thick boots snap the snow like bone.
Freeze, somebody would yell, and we’d halt,
our traitorous hearts still pounding their drums.
There is no pulse on the tundra but mine.

(more…)

Daylight was the first to flicker.
The air was subsequently thinned;
we gasped–each breath more
labored than the one before it. (more…)

Zombies
He paints them with his gun
colors of red and bone
like bursting balloons
the “Bang” is the same (more…)

No bites in the morningsave for bugs

drowning in ocular fluid

rubbing and rubbing

out plopped his eye (more…)

Virulent progression,
Procession to rot;
Hungry and undead
Killing what’s not (more…)

Grandmother says
they used to bury them.
Whole gardens of them, marked with stones,
pretty trees trimmed into shapes
and little pots for flowers. (more…)

Against a barricade of damp sand
in sacks, we’ve been waiting,
ears tuned to the shuffle of soles. (more…)

Trapped
I am alive inside
This Hell on earth
For how much longer I do not know (more…)

Hungry is the empty flesh,
Ravenous as the Angel Death;
So rot the pestilence

Grey tissue, vacant eyes:
Soulless angst rages
In this murder meat device

Gnawing, biting teeth
That kill and eat;
Carrion screams forever bleed.