dearth called for breakfast
at the breakfast table
a dearth of the dead
they were toast
that wouldn’t stay down
the curse of the un-bread
the pallor of the pollarded
partly dead the party gathered
incensed by thoughts
burnt by offence
beating the table with their knives
beat beat beat
the food of the braying mob
was a fast breaking
trust me i was there
the zombie with aplomb
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