Content Warning: Cough Syrup Communion has slight elements of body horror, and Worship has some self harm imagery.
My jacket sleeves drip, cough syrup
staining the previous beige. A sticky red sinks
slowly past my skin, seeping eventually
to the bone rot, I pray
it will cure.
Take 30 mg, every six to eight hours
as needed. I recite the labels instructions
in time with the Lord’s Prayer, each dose twists
expanding my lungs past their popping point.
Scraps of bronchi litter the carpet, laid out
like remnants of last night's party.
Cherry tints my tongue
like blood, the saccharin sweetness
welcomed by my mouth.
She can taste little else by now.
The dosage cup is left
on the counter, a discarded
communion. I cannot tell
if this body and blood will be my last,
the final devotional
to push me to salvation.
Lillian Fuglei (she/they) is a lesbian poetess based in Denver, Colorado. She began writing poetry in High School, after a lifetime of attending open mics thanks to their mother. They bounce between poetry, journalism, and academia, hoping to find a home for her writing somewhere in between the three. You can find them on Instagram at literary.lillian.