Peter was raised in New England but has lived the last 30 years in Southern Indiana. Writing poetry his whole life, he has just started to pursue it seriously. Based on his own experiences, he hopes that the words he shares will resonate and bring pleasure to those who read them. He has recently been published in the Anthology Hidden in Childhood. He is also co-creator of the Captain Janeway Statue.
A Home for Tom’s Zombies
How many years in a lifetime, she keeps asking in my dreams.
I cannot answer her.
History is no more than my memories of it.
They are sitting on the couch, pupils wide and faces flushed,
LSD electric in their blood.
I turn my head quickly to the side,
they are no more than shadows in the corner of my eye.
Priscilla and Susan, women that I love,
passing joints and idle chat, unaware of the curse we share.
Tom and Marcus, not at all alike, joined in drug-induced revelations.
Tom sees zombies in the wallpaper,
marching to the music of old Genesis,
pushing through the head-high bushes,
he describes it to us in vivid detail.
I can almost see them too, yet we all laugh at the threat.
They have not come for Tom yet.
Caleb sits in the corner, ink in his hand,
painting a pattern on his blue jeans,
a work in progress for two years.
A towering web of buildings over buildings over streets over land over nothing,
winding stairways that go everywhere but never seem to reach me,
sharp edges, searing colors, impossible angles of Dr. Seuss,
a home for Tom’s zombies.
I say with conviction, ‘A black pen is the most powerful weapon.’
Caleb laughs at me, as if an artist would know.
A voice comes to me.
Susan needs a cigarette and I have one.
She smiles at me.
I am afraid of her.
Tom and Priscilla hold hands, love visible as they talk to me.
I do not know what they say.
Priscilla’s hair is starting to return,
she has removed her scarf and I find it kind of sexy.
I see the zombie in her eyes and pray it is an illusion,
yet I have no god to pray to.
Marcus holds a can of Bud, cross-legged beneath the wall of zombies,
the table set for destiny to be served.
Midnight comes and goes, and we grow slowly tired.
Tom and Priscilla disappear into his room.
Caleb is gone, and I cannot recall if he was ever there at all.
Susan wishes to join me, but I refuse.
I do not see her pain as I leave the room.
She stays with Marcus and they talk till dawn.
A light snow falls over Boston.
How many years in a lifetime, Priscilla asks in my dreams.
Her bald head in the moonlight.
She prays to her god for me, yet I can only scream
I have no god to pray to.
I ask her if she has seen Marcus but she is gone.
She escaped the curse but left me behind.
I cannot recall if she was ever there at all.