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"Rebirth is Always Painful"
a poem
for born again zombies
Today
we play the meat card.
the sticky.
Today
insides uncoil like vines and seize you by the ankle.
The best elixirs glow
[teenage lightning]
We bless the syringe
and push into epidural space.
[flush of bioluminescence:
hormone geyser:
phosphorescence] Then we're dragged,
howling like a newborn
from cold liquid Afterworld
for another go at breath,
a second death.
Today
we press some flesh.
Ancient question:
when dead boys walk
do they know poetry?
Or is it all just hunger
brains
and meat?
Don't fool yourself;
a zombie does feel pain.
It's the pain itself
that has no meaning.
Cut!