IF I WERE A ZOMBIE I WOULD NOT BE BLOODTHIRSTY

Venus Knowles

when he had stood up in his own grave
greeted by his sisters and brother-apostles
— did Lazarus feel a twinge
of craving?
did he watch as Martha accidentally sliced her
finger instead of dough; did he want
severed flesh, gaping flesh
in that angry and hungry way?

the skin pulls taut over bones
as a poorly wrapped gift: too much
here and not enough there. his mouth
watering when he sees blood and bones, the
need to devour growing like weeds
in a garden.

me? – I’d be more reserved
in my bloodthirst,
buying my beef bloody, freshly sliced
a river of red and red and red
staining my fingertips as I unwrap the package.
I’d be undone with hunger,
the frenzy of feeding:
more contained, more precise, more subtle.

venus knowles is a black trans + lesbian poet currently located in new york, new york. his poetry varies from topic to topic, but the inspiration of their friends and his experiences always remains the same. when he’s not writing poetry, he can most often be found underneath a tree, soaking in the sunshine and fresh air.