Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write something based on mythology that isn’t Greek or Roman. On my web-travels, I discovered Ekkimu – who is not very nice: a kind of zombie-vampire (zombpire? vambie? actually, that sounds cute) who feeds on the pain of the living. It’s perhaps even worse than the kind that feeds on blood, or on flesh.
So I wrote a poem as an Ekkimu. It isn’t very nice. But hopefully entertaining. Here it is:
Ekkimu in the Reduced Section
or, Best Before
“The Ekimmu was fearfully dreaded by the Mesopotamian Empire
and was described as a very angry and bitter spirit of a once living human being,
who was unable to find peace.”
She thinks it’s the CCTV that’s watching
aisle 9. I savour the crack of her spine
as she hunches down, for the bright yellow
saplings of the new barcode: lamb chops
were £4.99. Now 49p. It would make
her day. And her night.
So I time it, just right, as the tips
of her sun-dried fingers finally make it
a micron away and let rip my most
massive, boiling and stagnant wind.
Despite her NHS waiting list-crick
she bends, back and away
in raisin-faced dismay.
My second attack: I pierce a clear,
sharp forefinger through the pack –
the lamb’s label – into its pink
and promising flesh. It greens.
Instantly. To the shade
of the fields on which
the little bastard
She straightens her glasses, leans back
to scan for the longed-for lamb
and finds it as it really is:
a rotting photograph of the evening
I cannot have. An after-thought
on this empty shelf.
And so I feast.
She’ll return, as she does, same time
tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
And I’ll be here: behind the signs until
her shadow is caught
in the revolving door.
My black-yolk eyes hungry,
from within the b’s
of Best Before.