It’s A Swamp Thing
by Ivan Jenson

I’m no
mind reading
shapeshifting
broomstick traveler
and I don’t
have a widow’s peak
and fangs that impale
pale women
and I don’t wear wolf’s fur
or bang my chest
while holding an ingénue
in my hairy palm as I scale
the Empire State Building
and though I am a
regular zombie
before my morning cup
of coffee
I am still undead
roaming around
like a character in a
dystopian novel
hoping my
omnipresent
third person narrator
will allow me
to live
to see
a sequel
or two