by Jennifer Wilson
promethazine
is bitter
and makes dust
on all things
clouds on the hands
and white around
the fingers
lines left white
on the table tops
and tastes of bitterness
on the lips
as they plume
with wisps
and spores
like feathers
plucked
for a feast
of public discourse
and bald
all the people
gather
in their nakedness
calling out
the names of chemicals
as they solidify
Jennifer Wilson lives in Somerset, England, with her husband and spends her days as a faceless retail drone. Her work has or will appear in Molotov Cocktail, Chaleur, Feminine Collective, Vamp Cat, Mojave Heart and the YANYR anthology from Rhythm & Bone lit. She has struggled with depression and anxiety for the majority of her life and has never managed to get much sleep.
The Sunday Solace series focuses on mental health and medication. We hope to provide a judgment-free space to explore and discuss our issues in a creative manner.