Zombie Love Song

Undead Bride and Groom

The boy you loved didn’t know his own
name. He spoke, but what came out were

the need-cries of a newborn. When he reached
towards your heart, it was actually your sweet

breast or something shiny, maybe, on a necklace.
Perhaps you were, yourself, an animal; we’re

all something less than we’d like to admit, but
consideration forces the issue, as observation

kills the cat. I didn’t know that, then. I never
meant to waste your gift to me; I never thought

this bow hid a box I could ever really open. I have
a name now; it’s regret. I didn’t know pheromones

determined so much, so aptly. I thought I’d smell all
my days out, but now, it’s all cleaning products in

hospital waiting rooms. I thought; we’re young.
We’ll heal. There will be plenty of chances to make

this right. But this is all a lie. What I thought was
an aching hunger that could never be satisfied. I thought

everyone ate their own brains. The one secret I never
shared: hearts taste so much more filling.

C.L. Bledsoe

C.L. Bledsoe received a 2014 Pushcart Prize nomination for his poem, "Zombie Love Song." He is the author of the young adult novel Sunlight; three poetry collections, _____(Want/Need), Anthem, and Leap Year; and a short story collection called Naming the Animals, among others. A poetry chapbook, Goodbye to Noise, is available online. Another, The Man Who Killed Himself in My Bathroom, is available here. Bledsoe lives with his wife and daughter in Maryland.

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