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Issue 1 Poetry

Sunday Morning Service

“I wrote all of these pieces on my own volition, inspired by the people within my life. Typically, I get all my thoughts down through word vomiting on the paper, then spend the majority of my writing process revising. All of these writings have benefited from the perspectives of others, allowing me to get to a place where I am proud of my works.”

I used to exalt His Name,
The Most Holy,
believing in the rigor 
of this archaic institution.

Sunday mornings bring to mind
itchy tights and shiny dress shoes,
psalms sang between
clasped hands and bent knees,
the smell of frankincense 
heavy in the air, 
enveloping us in this sacred smoke,
making me lightheaded.
The sermon shrouded in shame, 
reminding me that 
I am made of sin, and 
my desires are also my demise,
if I stop attending this 
Sunday service.

Then, I stopped.

My Sundays spent 
kneeling on pillows
rather than pews and
my sermons comprised of 
breathy moans and profanities.

I don’t practice organized 
religion anymore, instead I 
began my own private practice. 
No longer believe in the name
God, except for when 
my fingers twist the bedsheets
and stubble scrapes my
fleshy thigh, reveling in the 
pleasure, this religious 
experience of tongue and touch, 
screaming
Oh god!
Oh god!
Oh god! 


Amelia Modes is a third-year student studying Creative Writing and Media & Cinema Studies at DePaul. Amelia finds catharsis within the writing process, basing many of her works on personal experiences. Through her work at the Writing Center, Amelia has discovered the benefits of feedback and collaboration in crafting creative writings. She hopes that her works bring you as much joy as she had in crafting them.