In my years I turned down hundreds of dates,
Having not been satisfied with Earthlings.
A girl gets tired of mundane primates
And deserves a paranormal coupling.
So when I met this brute, who stood so tall,
And spoke of a life unique and obscure,
I knew right away he could keep me enthralled,
Cherish my whims and bring me sweet amour.
But the weeks wagged on and I turned aghast:
He was showing the same dull signs of men 
That I had seen and slept-with in the past!
There was no choice but to call it an end.
   Strange romance is nothing but fantasy,
   All I got was a zombie S.T.D.!

Justin Tate's poetry has appeared in literary journals, webzines and anthologies. His latest book - The Death Sonnets - is available now on Amazon.com



Young Hunter crouched through Lascaux like his virgin
kill he’d celebrate soon enough,
into dampened darkness, leaving behind him
transcendent Sky towering in all its magic.
Before daybreak a meteor shower danced across Sky
but minutes before Sun rose pink.

Not long after the mumbles
of distant thunder, dark clouds slid under Sky,
bathing landscape. Clouds moved on
and Rainbow frowned down at them, the meek, for Sky was angry,
and so descended Young Hunter into the temple cave.

Dancing and drumming had already begun
there where bulls are painted;
Young Hunter had completed his rites of manhood.

Fire, small yet strong, danced
with the chanting as bird-masked Shaman entered his trance. 
Eyes closed, his body convulsed
to drum beats and crackling flames
while the local hunter-artist painted on the cave wall.

Outside, Moon tried to peek in, but they were in too far.

Sky appeared appeased
to see this ritual redemption from guilt
of morning’s hunger. Once inside,
Shaman entered his trance, his body,

Young Hunter had been told of the journey taken.
Shaman learned his craft from wise animals
hunters kill, and all of them, these Homo necans,
know their place below
superior beasts who teach the secrets
of immortality and longevity.

Shaman must find Earth’s gut
before he can climb to mingle with beasts
and bow to Sky. Upon his return,
he is dead. Homo necans must feed his lungs
so he can risk his life another day.

Joshua Gray lives just outside Washington DC with my wife and two boys and is the DC Poetry Examiner for Examiner.com as well as Co-Chair of his local arts and humanities commission and a Board member for The Word Works. His book Beowulf: A Verse Adaptation With Young Readers In Mind was published by Zouch Six Shilling Press earlier this year. Read his poem 'Puja' nominated for Best of the Net (click on poem title).



Going through a divorce is torture enough, but one night I found myself attacked in my sleep by a woman who was a complete stranger.  Fortunately, I had been lying on the sectional sofa in the TV room, and by shifting my weight and forcefully extending my forearm, I managed to shove my assailant back down through a crack between the cushions.  The mysterious woman may lurk there yet, in that unexplored territory just beneath the couch.   I have not dared move it.

M.V. Montgomery is a professor at Life University in Atlanta. He is the author, most recently, of the short story collection Beyond the Pale (2013). This and 'My Fair Zombie' which appears on the Flash Fiction page are part of his new collection 'Night-Crawl', forthcoming via Red Dashboard LLC, Oct 2013.