by Romy Morreo
Remember the time I coughed so hard
I tore a lung?
the microbes inside, dormant, held for decades
got out
infiltrated my red cells, turned my fingers
carcinogenic, my feet clawed,
my voice as venomous as my spit
and my flesh crept necrotic
shrivelling from the inside like a burning
screaming mandrake
and my gums rotted, crawling, until all I could do
was hurt (hurt people hurt people)
and the doctors said
There’s nothing we can do,
she’s just a bitch.
Romy Morreo (she/they) completed her MA Creative Writing at the University of Chichester. Her poetry has appeared in publications including Transients Magazine, Cosmic Daffodil Journal, Moss Puppy Magazine, and Impostor Lit, amongst others. She received an Honourable Mention for her poem ‘Intimacy’ in the Dark Poets Prize 2024, and her poem ‘The Pleasure is All Theirs’ was nominated for the Pushcart Prize. She lives in the UK.