by Bill Yarrow
"Jesus was a zombie?" I ask, shocked.
My uncle turns towards me with a look
of red surprise on his face. Absolutely!
He was the King of the Zombies. He was
one of the first to die and then come back
so he's among the original undead. Sly
zombie. Very crafty, let me tell you—
gets people to eat his body and drink
his blood, and when they do, they belong
to him—forever! He not only eats their
brains, but he also devours their hearts,
and then they can never die. Watch out
for this Jesus fella. He's coming after you.
And he'll never stop chasing you down.
"What'll I do if I see him?" I ask, shaking
in my chair. Cross your fingers like this—
that'll make him think you're one of them,
and he'll leave you be. "What lies are you
telling my boy?" my dad shouts running up
from the basement. He grabs Uncle Ned
by the shirt, jerks him up, and starts to
choke him. Hey, take it easy, brother!
Just teaching the kid to fear the Lord.
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This poem was published in Meta/Phor(e)/Play.
This poem appears in BLASPHEMER (Lit Fest Press 2015).
Delightful
I love blasphemy. Especially now. This is good and tight.
*.
yep.
Excellent.
See... he's the good type of zombie, he loves you for who you are - delicious- yum- great piece Bill
Suddenly hungry for one of those weird crackers ...
*
Thank you, Matt, Dianne, Jerry, Gary, Paul, Ray, and Sam.
Sets my soul to shaking.*
He, he...I always knew it.
Thanks, Tim! Thanks, Kitty!