The hungry corpses wander over me.
I seek my refuge in a shallow grave.
Beneath the floorboards, through a crack, I see
a mirror that holds the whole undead conclave.
Their stomping feet rattle my roughhewn roof,
their fetid groans come muffled through the floor,
but in this underworld, I’m zombie proof;
here underground, I watch the marching gore.
They wander hapless now, robbed of their feast,
but tireless they search my empty room.
Trapped down below, trapped with my life, at least,
but shall I ever leave? Is this my doom?
A dead reflection looks me in the eye
and breaks the glass, shouting a wild cry.
Tale Told 