Artwork: Jack of Angles by Will Jacques

Google Could Be Your Best Friend If Only You Ask Him In
Robert Beveridge

Whether we face the zombie
apocalypse or a horde of cannibals
is immaterial. Whatever is
outside that gate is set on your
pancreas for a midnight snack.
You know, they sometimes break
the bone, get at the marrow,
that snap of dedication, almost
contempt. Which of you will it be?
Which eyes will I see open
to the sky, glassy against the rain?
None is only an option if we go
through it again. And again. And
try to get it right this time, or more
right than it’s been the last few.
Guns out, pancreas armored, forward.

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Revenants
Robert Beveridge

Doors and windows boarded, furniture
piled at the weakest points. Still you hear
the scratch scratch scratch against the vinyl
siding you had installed last year. You know,
because you've read all the books and Googled
till your fingers bled, that they are here
because they have a specific purpose. You.
Your blood, your productivity, your skill
with a Dutch oven and a grouper. You sit
on the dilapidated couch, put in your ear buds
and listen to Odessey and Oracle on infinite
repeat, and you know all you can do is wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait for them to get through

 

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