Contributors * more photos to appear soon

Contributors * more photos to appear soon
Christy Namee Eriksen, kim thompson, Jon Schill

Friday, February 25, 2011


Even as the buildings twisted,
his lips did not miss an inch,
his kisses like concrete,
slabbed against my skin,
his hands,
pulling through the wet cement
digging our initials in,
drawing a heart before I would harden.

I could hear the sirens,
the shrill sounds of last breaths,
a panicked serpent stabbing  through the streets.
But he, he was a light of urgency,
a flash come my way,
like a gift in the blackout.
Of course
I was not blinded, I was blessed.
We were a mess of undone buttons,
zippers, jaws ripped open,
their teeth a bite softer than ours.

This is how a zombie makes a promise.

He whispers,
lets his tongue curl around you,
knots his limbs through yours,
grabs you eternal,
makes love like the world is ending.

When you remember to open your eyes,
you will see flames through the doorway.
When you remember to leave
to run
to be rescued
the humble floor will start to quiver.
He will sniff the pink in your flesh,
supposing how many tulips are left inside.

Your scream will be morning birds to him.
He may even hum along for a moment
as he buckles his belt at the rumbling dusk,
or he may scavenge for you, hungry,
depending on which side of the rubble he wakes up on.

Well, it’s been five hundred and forty seven days
and I have got to get out of this fuckin fortress.
This brick building made of mud, stone, and my
Stocked with ramen and green beans and chips,
every door every crack
in my house is combination padlocked.
I have a child,
he has forgotten the word for stars.

Every now and then the zombie taps on my window with
a wink and a frothy smile.
He is running free.
He can smell the sweet cedar.
He can waste time in the moon.
He could break something, he could make something, the world is his
He has an ax in his shoulder, he doesn’t even notice.
I have a house full of ammo and more heart than I need to kill him,
but he isn’t afraid of me.

Those days,
those days
I can’t remember if I’m undead
or a survivor.