Michael Derrick Hudson

E R

End of Days Advice from an Ex-zombie

To think I used to be so good at going to pieces
gobbling my way through the cops

and spooking what’ s left of the girls. How’ d I

get so far, sloughing off one knuckle at a time,
jerking my mossy pelt along

ruined streets? Those insistent, dreadful thuds

when we stacked our futile selves
against locked doors. Our mumbles and groans!

Such hungry nights! Staggering through the grit

of looted malls, plastered with tattered
flags of useless currency, I’ d slobbered all over