Laurels Literary Magazine Spring 2016 | Page 23

Medicinal Francesca Rainosek Vincent Price noted how funny it was that acid left nothing but the bones— no hair or flesh. Well, lay me down in my bath and let me find my home. Crushing charcoal tablets between my teeth, I sing the ashes to sleep on top of petrichor and manzanilla leaves. “Camomile,” Spanish. And I’ll remember the days of fried eggplant and seeping jasmine tea, when you told me you would protect me from the evils of the world. 11