The Hunter Of Zombies
Each live zombie counts as five points she says,
making sure everyone understands
she’s way ahead.
So what else is new
complains her primo hermano Cheto.
Her machete glistens red
against the predicted sunset.
The barrio’s hind legs
give off their dues and then some.
hurry along the river bottom.
Dead abuelas sweep the banks
with homemade brooms.
Go back to your tombs she yells.
The barrio’s black eye
winks with sarcasm from the broken dam.
Our heroine waits in the shadows
for nightfall to rise with the fog.