I have transitioned. My job hasn’t.
My sniffling mother bakes the corpse cake; I, exhausted, shape it into coffins. Mom bags the doily-shrouded caskets without bidding me goodbye. Mourners never speak to murderers.
Alone—freed—I eat my sins. Mostly the one of walking and talking long after I’m gone.
Samir Sirk Morató is a scientist, artist, and heap of flesh. Some of their work can be found in Catapult, The Dark Sire, and Rune Bear Weekly. They are on Twitter and Instagram at @spicycloaca.