Sometimes the dead are hungry. We must feed them. There are all kinds of ways. First, normal food: bury ginger over their heads and hearts, apples in the woods they wander. Second, remember that the dead do not like being dead. They do not want to pickle in their fear, their rage, their boredom. If they must be conscious they want to be entertained. To feed the dead, you must work hard to amuse them. This is easy to achieve. Play a loud rock and roll record, so loud that you hear the blood in your veins and you cannot help but dance dance dance. This can be done over their grave but if you fear legal or social repercussions, you can do it in the woods or their favorite place or your very own bedroom. The dead don’t care about those kinds of details. The afterlife is without location. The dead still like to be taken on dates. This transcends whatever your relationship may have been: spouse // other woman // friend // cousin // mother // the dead just want to spend time with you. Cook them their favorite meal (yes, the way to a dead man’s heart is through his stomach,) watch a movie together, feel the pressure of an ice cold cock between your thighs. The dead still want to be courted, treated as if they are special.  The dead want to be memorialized in all kinds of ways. They’re rather self-involved, really. More-so if they were artists or attorneys while they were alive. Did you have their grave stone etched with something distinctive? Spread their ashes across the dream location they always put off visiting? There are all kinds of things you can leave on graves: plastic whirligigs, stone statues, pots of fake flowers. Take charcoal to paper to grave, hang the rubbing on your wall. Line your arms with shaky tattoos. The dead don’t care about aesthetics, depending on how mad they are they will even like how shaky the lines are. Say their names. Say them again. Look up the meaning of their names in a baby book. Look up the names of the ancestors that came before them, long before them. Learn about their culture, their customs, their customs for the dead. The dead have feelings and ultimately they are like all other people. They want to be seen, heard, validated. When they apparate in front of you, their skulls crushed open like rotting pumpkins against concrete, do not turn away. Do not flinch. Gaze into the yawning.

Author Bio: Callie S. Blackstone writes both poetry and prose. Her work has been nominated for Best of the Net. Her debut chapbook sing eternal is available through Bottlecap Press. More information is available at calliesblackstone.com.

Artwork: “Baby Ghoul” by Anne Anthony

Artist Bio: Anne Anthony is a digital collage artist living in North Carolina. Her digital collage, Mother Follows appeared in the December 2022 issue of Anti-Heroin Chic. Her photograph, Deer Shadow, placed in the Carolina Woman’s Magazine’s 2023 photography contest. More recently, she exhibited two digital collages in the Orange County Arts Commission Coalesce Art: A Collaboration of Poetry and Visual Art held in January 2024. Her digital collage, Forest Hawk, was displayed in the 2024 North Carolina Botanical Gardens’ Saving Our Savannas Community Art exhibit. Her photograph, Lonesome, was selected by phoebe literary journal for 2025 Best of the Net. She’ll be the Artist in Residence featured in the December issue of literary journal, Neither Fish Nor Foul. She currently works as Art Director for the online literary magazine, Does It Have Pockets. Find recent publications here. Follow her on IG: @anchalastudio, X: @DIHPocketsART, and FB: @anchalastudio.