Elena Sichrovsky

tabernacle

i found god in a piece of gum on the underside
of a table in the back of taco bell

he said son what do you have to confess

i told him that i say good morning with my front teeth and i lied
when i said i’d have the rent money by the end of the week
and i didn’t trim my nails before fingering my dayshift manager
and most days i fill my pockets with sliced jalapeños so my
cuticles will sting when i reach inside to touch the pieces of me

he said if i didn’t mind he’d like to taste
me in the back of his throat so i unzipped

my apron and
                  god got down on my mother’s knees

i prayed for a customer to walk in and deliver me
(the door handle never turned; god works in mysterious ways)

when he choked i pictured icicles smearing purple
lipstick on my mouth (i kissed them back with tongue, panting)

                  god wiped his chin on his sleeve afterwards

slut

i went outside and lit up a bundle of straw wrappers to smoke
and god said you know i love you regardless

when has that ever made any difference i said
when has that ever made any difference

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Elena Sichrovsky is a queer Austrian-Tawainese writer currently based in the Netherlands. Her work has been published in Black Telephone Magazine, Honey Literary, Stone of Madness Press, and Mud Season Review, among others. Through her writing she hopes to find the beauty in the terrifying and the terror in the beautiful. You can follow her on Twitter @ESichr or IG @elenitasich.