inconceivable now as the pathway
its soft-looking venoms
where once
the bell the bell the clang
that rang for us zombies
at the river's edge
blood in cups we drank
so slow and soft
slicking each other's bloodlips
never really asking
it's not me
it's not my family
in your head
we the walking dead
eating at each other's brains
lack of brains
wasting unrepeatable miracles
muscle, fat, fibre
connective tissue
brain most of all, this head offal—
all these we devour and desire
our species
yes we desire most of all
our own species
and we are rare
what's in your head tonight
zombie? oh oh oh
bury me under a heavy stone
let it be inscribed
with warnings
not to unearth monsters
lest one has time to talk
and the fortitude to wait
for all of it to become true
.
.
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