Contributors from Australia, Austria, Canada, England, France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, India, Ireland, Israel, Italy, Mexico, Netherlands, New Zealand, Palestine, Poland, Puerto Rico, Romania, Russia, Scotland, Serbia, South Africa, Spain, Sweden, Syria, Tasmania, Tunisia, Ukraine, USA, Wales, Zimbabwe

Zombie Apocalypse

​

All my friends are dead

in the zombie apocalypse.

Carefully I thread.

Blackness in the fingertips.

 

I am hungry. I lost pounds.

I’m the king of solitude.

Don’t you see that I am crowned

with the tears of servitude?

 

What if I just do you harm?

What a pity, what a dread!

When I sound the old alarm,

how can it revive the dead?

 

While I love you from afar

with my heart encapsulated

into a too-small a jar,

you want me, as well, sedated.

 

But I don’t march with the hordes,

So I’m giving up on you.

As I cut resisting cords,

there might be remaining glue.

​

​

Mircea Boboc © 2022