The Mucus Highway by Samantha Carr

A large tree in the middle of green woodland. Large white text reads: The Mucus Highway. Smaller text reads: Discussing disabled characters in fairy tales and folklore.

It started with pain between
the shoulder blades, like Nyx
had placed the eclipsed moon
inside, forever hidden.
 
A calcified cave – a coiled cloak
of darkness enfolded the softness
that remained of that body. I wore
it well, this forever home.
 
The pain dissolved into rain as the
storm coaxed clouds to empty.
I felt better then, filled with water,
forever heavy.
 
A delicious soft foot, I learned
to contract like lightning bolts,
relax like mulch. And moved faster
than I had forever.
 
My power oozed from my mouth,
sleek slimy stringy mucus, no
longer a cough burden. Fast comet
tail highways forever.
 
My shell expanded with calcified
excitement, the night and I foolish
friends, free in this shadow air,
forever healthy.

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About the author
Samantha is based in Plymouth, UK where she is a PhD Creative Writing candidate at the University of Plymouth exploring chronic illness through poetry. Her poetry has been published in Arc, Acumen, Room, Cephalopress, The Storms Journal and Causley International. Samantha is an ex nurse who lives with complex chronic illness and neurodiversity.