there is a curse on this town
blank eyes and slack wordless tongues
slide between nervous commonfolk
who don’t know the word “zombie”
the river gone still and brackish
the children stay inside
humanity responds to mystery
with superstition and ritual
today it is my turn
to run a mile between the pale ones
if you touch one, they say
you’ll become one
i don’t think that’s how it works
just a touch should be okay
but when in rome
you shut your fucking mouth
we celebrate at a baseball game
the home team is having a good year
over the pa system we hear an ad
for the next marvel movie
coming this summer
if there’s a theater near you
i’m in the nosebleeds
when a man behind me chokes
and throws up his hot dog
and tumbles down the stadium stairs
slow motion as everyone jumps away
crushing one another
in the confusion
the runner steals third base
and the spectators pile onto the field
on the way home i confess
he touched my hand as he fell
i say it should be fine
i say it can’t be real
wes parnell says
he doesn’t believe it either
and runs a finger down my neck
but at his touch something blooms
i know in that moment
it’s all true
i try to warn him
but my lips will not move
mattress dungeon 