Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 13, 2026

Zombie Love

By Shel Bates

The heady scent of graveyard dirt
Permeates the room.
I try to look into your eyes -
You stare into the gloom.

I try to talk to you on love -
My efforts are in vain.
I try to feed you strawberries.
You want to eat my brain.

Finally, I give it up.
I'm giving you the shove.
I'm not cut out for life with you
And your strange zombie love.


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Article © Shel Bates. All rights reserved.
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