#9 Dream: The Zombie Apocalypse
by Rusty Barnes
No voices, just the crump and thump of limbs
against the French door. I'm dozing on the floor
fighting off the drugs when a child busts
into the room and points out the smear
of omphalos blood and the green sneer
of the undead waving truculent at the glass.
I need a shotgun but what I have is a butter
knife. When the jamb breaks like a leg
I try to hit the bread in the throat but miss.
Behind me is my roaring teen with a shovel
who takes off its head Shaun of the Dead-like.
I realize I'm dreaming and I laugh
but the suppurating bodies are livening
themselves now just for my entertainment
so I go to the closet and get the shotgun,
pull out the plug and load up with #4 shot.
The scene shifts. On my back I fight off
a woman who grips like a gorilla,
snaps at me with her long fangs.
I wake with my hand on my wife's throat.
against the French door. I'm dozing on the floor
fighting off the drugs when a child busts
into the room and points out the smear
of omphalos blood and the green sneer
of the undead waving truculent at the glass.
I need a shotgun but what I have is a butter
knife. When the jamb breaks like a leg
I try to hit the bread in the throat but miss.
Behind me is my roaring teen with a shovel
who takes off its head Shaun of the Dead-like.
I realize I'm dreaming and I laugh
but the suppurating bodies are livening
themselves now just for my entertainment
so I go to the closet and get the shotgun,
pull out the plug and load up with #4 shot.
The scene shifts. On my back I fight off
a woman who grips like a gorilla,
snaps at me with her long fangs.
I wake with my hand on my wife's throat.
Rusty Barnes lives in Revere, MA, with his family. He's published stories on and offline for a little more than ten years. He has a few websites he'd like you to check out: www.nighttrainmagazine.com, www.friedchickenandcoffee.com, nudepoems.blogspot.com, and www.rustybarnes.com.
