Sunday Roast

B. A. Tunstall


Content Warning: Disordered eating, Death, Religious theophagy

He tears bread from his bones

And says Eat

Sit in silence in suede red seats

Think in Latin

And Eat

Tear me open

Tell me that you love me

He says I have died for you

I have bled cold and aching on wood you carved

I have been flayed by your hand and still

I give you fistfuls of abdomen

Arm, throat, and holy communion

He tells you tear me open

Tell me that you love me

And you do

He tells you to prove it

And you do

He tells you to eat him

And you do

Place his flesh on your tongue

Blood in your throat

Choke on it

Hear him in your own voice say

Love me and remember what you’ve done to me

Love me and remember what you owe me

Eat me and know me as I know you

Drink me and know you never deserved me

The flesh falls right off the bone

Close your eyes


Author: Baz is a Moreton Bay based creative and recent QUT Creative Writing graduate. Baz writes both poetry and fiction and has qualifications in fashion and music production. Their work focuses on gothic and religious influences and is generally an elaborate way of making their miserable Irish Catholic upbringing everyone else’s problem. To get in touch check out Baz’s Instagram: @BazAtTheEndOfTheWorld

Editors: Willow Ward and Grace Harvey