Zombies

Syria fires Scud missiles on its own people

Telegraph, 12 December 2012

We don’t much mind the bombers

or even their shotgun riders

in fact, we give them names

say there goes that Jerry or Hans

there’s a bloke lives down our street

calls one of the pilots Uncle Jack

you get a good look at their faces

the sorrow as they count our houses

deep down they’re just like our boys

up there shitting themselves

one hand on their frozen bollocks

the other fast to their controls

and only some Helga in the Fatherland

keeps them from ditching on English soil,

gifting themselves to the home guard

rather than waiting for a Hurricane.

No, it’s the zombies that keep us awake

droning Wir fürchten nichts overhead.

(c) 2012 Slush Poet