A Poem by Lewis Buxton

Zombie Husband

butters bones, coifs brain coffee,
eats almost like when he was alive
before he sets out for his 9–5
of tearing at the roots of family trees,

taking on bloody responsibilities,
business meats: the cleaving of wives
from husbands, the jagged surprise
of teeth ripping through kids’ sleeves.

Why does he keep going?
Whilst others are falling apart
at the seams, holding their hearts
in their hands, here he is, hoping

to see his wife amidst the undead
looking so alive in apocalypse red.

Born in 1993, Lewis Buxton’s work has appeared in Poetry Review, The Rialto and Magma. In 2018 he received the UEA Literary Festival Bursary and in 2020 he won the Winchester Poetry Prize. His first collection, Boy in Various Poses, was published in 2021 by Nine Arches Press. He currently lives in Norfolk.