Over the last few months, I’ve written a series of poems about horror movies. This came about because I am working on a horror literature and film adaptation course, so for a month or two, I revisited a number of film theory articles and horror movies. All of this reading rubbed off on my poetry and gave me a new project. The poems have also given me the space to deal with the age of Trump in my own way, through writing. Horror, when done well, can be a metaphor for national or global anxieties and fears. I have a personal connection to the genre, too. Growing up, I watched old horror movies with my dad, and it was a chance to bond with him, especially since I didn’t like sports. This poem is about Night of the Living Dead, one of his favorites. Most haunting to me about the film is the last two minutes.
Check out the poem, published by Gravel, here.