From now, through the weekend,
They’re selling zombies downtown,
Claiming it’s a pre-fire sale,
Before they burn them all.
I say good riddance, indeed.
Never met a single one
I cared to share a meal with.
I’m sure they’re the salt of the earth—
Somewhere on another planet.
See, I’m more of a pepper guy.
So, yeah, we don’t mix well.

Now my wife’s a different story.
She’s finds them fascinating.
Claims she’d adopt one or two,
If I so much as let her.
But she already believes in ghosts,
Tortured souls, ghouls, voodoo,
And every form of black magic.
Believe me, I sleep each night
With one eye open.

Still, perhaps, there’s money in this,
Should I purchase a half dozen—
For novelty’s sake, nothing more.
My wife would be pleased,
I could gain a tax write-off,
And the creepy neighbors I despise,
Would finally leave me alone.

AUTHOR BIO:

Bart Edelman’s poetry collections include Crossing the Hackensack, Under Damaris’ Dress, The Alphabet of Love, The Gentle Man, The Last Mojito, The Geographer’s Wife, Whistling to Trick the Wind, and This Body Is Never at Rest: New and Selected Poems 1993 – 2023. He’s taught in the MFA program at Antioch University, Los Angeles. His work has been anthologized in textbooks published by City Lights Books, Harcourt Brace, and Prentice Hall. He lives in Pasadena, CA.