Zombie

 

 

Therapy popped you out again

like a rotten vegetable in the garden—

 

the twelve years

I spent as your sponge,

 

and now, the boxes I’ve spent

too much time going through

 

while you sip matcha lattes

bought with the green money of my soul.

 

You insect,

still squiggly on the microscope slide—

 

but, as therapy goes,

I’m meant to look,

 

rummage through the ghost files,

craft taxonomy from crazy.

 

But, from the way I see it

now, buzz off—

 

you should be the one

in here.

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

Word Garden Word List