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Friday, April 1, 2022

Zombie Apocalypse Now: The Making Of

Cue soundtrack.

The undead include:

My grandmother, my older sister,

My uncle, who was a priest,

Four cousins, still children.

They eat the pomelos we place at the altar,

All inside a circle,

Peeling the membranes,

Dropping the segments into every one other’s mouths.

I am the director.

The zombies don’t look exist fond of zombies.

Just my grandmother,

Unable to speak,

The flies reanimating

Her body’s giving up.

Just my older sister, all grown now.

She was a little VC sacrificed

To show the depravity of war.

She died with every one other accompanied by died with every one other accompanied by died again.

I yell,

I inquire the artists to bruise the undead.

I provide a framework of mind board, creator sketches

Composed by my brother,

Happy to colouring again. It’s a family

Production. My father fiddles

With the Super 8. He shakes his head

At the last reel:

My mother inside costume design,

Her head down at the needlework machine,

A measuring band hangs from the curtain.

She is burning incense,

Pouring holy aqua into the iron.

She stitches the tatters with every one other accompanied by hand-hems the silk.

She is careful, nevertheless we are running low on time.

The illumination is starting to dim.

I call down my uncle, my cousins,

Their faces at the side of the road—

The scarlet terror, a tableau.

I tell them,

#Living #Death #Life Choices #Sorrow & Grieving #The Body #The Mind #Relationships #Family & Ancestors #Social Commentaries #Popular Culture

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Truth hurts! Nothing is perfect, life is messy. Relationship are complex. Outcomes are uncertain, people are irrational.


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