Like you, I depend on the kindness of zombies –
they share their bandages and a smoke with me
down here in the subway – our boxcars of the undead
on Monday morning, stereo
boombox trains coming and going.
Should I enlist the rats to help clean my wounds?
gnaw away the necrotic pizza crusts
falling from the trash bin of my soul?
Debride the brightly colored M&Ms
that look like candy but bring no solace.
Is there forgiveness or salvation
this far underground,
six feet times six feet under,
the six train running on the third rail,
Lexington Ave local the sign of the beast?
Let us say our prayers then, you and I,
kneel on the platform with the banker and the zealot –
those who washed with soap today,
and those who baptized their sins
with vodka.
For Shay’s Word Garden
qbit 
It’s the “like you,” that makes that opening line, but you knew that you sly devil. A little nod to Elliot to begin the final stanza? I also really like
“
the necrotic pizza crusts
falling from the trash bin of my soul”
All aboard!
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Ahahaha!!! My fav.
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Nice hook there at the end.
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the metaphors are so full of grit and grunge -a powerfully painted poem that never lets up on the imagery and hooked me from the 1st to last line
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Thank you Laura!!
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~~~ well you know how much I enjoyed this! Mosey on over to Woonie’s, she is having a close out on ZOMB-AIDS today
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Hahaha, yes, saw that!!
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Ha! Fabulous!
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You had me hooked at the title! Brilliant as always Qbit!!!
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you pen a fine dystopian – or 6x6x6-stop-ian – pen, good sir ~
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Lolol!!! Thank you!
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