"Zombie for All Seasons," "Thanksgiving," and Other Poems

Zombie for All Seasons

in the fall, you got caught up with a group
the Trick o’ Treaters on Halloween night
giving everyone a horrible fright

in the winter, you were a frozen stiff
only your eyeballs showed any movement
where your slight moaning begged for improvement

in the spring, you thawed out with freezer burn
soaking in lesions of the fresh decay
matters of melting now ruining your day

in the summer, you’re suddenly alive
moving about like a well-oiled beast
smelling like bacon or a spoiled feast

you truly became one for all seasons
sadly because of all the wrong reasons

Thanksgiving

the awaited season has now begun
almost as if without any notice
thoughts of a Rockwell painting on your mind
you sense every detail, every garnish
aroma of the Butterball turkey
permeates the great, family gathering
every single side dish you’ve ever known
awaits for you at the grand, old table
every fork, every spoon, set to its place
every expensive plate, shiny and bright
everyone sitting, awaiting the meal
everyone earnest in blessings and thanks

but…you are not there…and this is not real
the dead outside await to feast on you

Librarian

dead women tell no tales, only the truth
and if you’re truly looking for those facts
then that book can be found in libraries
step up to the circulation counter
and meet the librarian on duty
honestly, she is the only one left
be brief, she doesn’t talk much anymore

so stare into those very hollow eyes
raven parted with them when she first died
but her other senses will alert her
of your presence in her vicinity
librarians are very resourceful
ask her for the book and she will find it
truth is though, she’d rather eat your fresh mind