Boy Scouts vs. Zombies
       

In my elementary school gymnasium,
Scout Master tells us
to do our civic duty
with sharpened sticks
and pocketknives we aren't supposed
to know how to use.

There are no merit badges
for this.
We are never prepared
for teachers and adults possessed
with the undead gait
that rips through a school
full of children.

If I survive, I will join
the future of a living hell,
rebuilt by orphans
who sob for forgiveness to
hungry-for-flesh
mothers and fathers.

I don't want to wear
this uniform anymore. I don't want to be
loyal to my den
or a good citizen
by putting down
our bitten-up Scout Master,

my absent mother,
or reanimated father.
I will pretend
I get a pin for this.

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Copyright © 2018 Juan J. Morales All rights reserved
from The Handyman's Guide to End Times
University of New Mexico Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission