Size / / /

Zombie politicians—

as they linger over your brain,

taking forever to finish their task,

then shake your limp hand in the end.

Salesmen zombies—

who push their mindless sales pitch

upon you, crowding your front door, and

trashing your living room carpet if

given the chance.

Evangelical zombies—

who act blankly determined to

save your soul, to convert you to their

fuzzy belief systems and twisted visions

of eternity.

Radio talk show zombies—

who babble on throughout the night

to their half-conscious listeners, the latter

willfully offering up their gray matter

to irrational half truths.

Corporate zombies—

who march around in expensive,

but tattered business suits, flailing their

MBA's in one's face, determined to drag

one down to their bottom line.

Finally, zombie relatives—

those you haven't seen for years,

those who repeatedly sponge off you,

and those who literally interpret the proverb,

blood is thicker than water, intent on

draining you of every last drop.




G. O. Clark's writing has been published in Asimov's, A Sea of Alone: Poems for Alfred Hitchcock, Tales of the Talisman, and other publications. He's the author of nine poetry collections, most recently Shroud of Night (2011) and a fiction collection, The Saucer Under My Bed & Other Stories (2011). You can find more of his work at his website and in our archives.
Current Issue
16 Mar 2026

The garden is the resting place of your vulnerabilities; there’s a reason you’ve left them here instead of carrying them with you. Typically you enter hardened and hurried, beelining straight for the correct plot and quickly releasing whatever is clutched in your hand without a second thought—today, an attempted weaving of leather and lace, strength and suppleness that your body cannot figure out how to wear, nor your words to narrate.
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