by nat raum
that’s a euphemism—yes, i have cavities,
but it means i am bullet train, bound
for collision. i am jar of marbles broken
across a concrete floor. i am the rise
of the seas. what i lack in control i make up
for in firepower and i should not be given
an excuse to start shooting. i am landslide
tornado earthquake wildfire, ready to raise
hell, ask questions later. i put the disorder
in bpd and my nightmares like to remind me.
i close my eyes, see incisor pop softly out
of gumline. run tongue through bloody
mouth, lose teeth like i used to cut corn
off the cob. same time tomorrow night.
nat raum is the poet laureate of the void; their corporeal form lives in Baltimore. They’re the author of this book will not save you, random access memory, fruits of the valley, and many others. Find them online at natraum.com or astral projecting inside a Royal Farms.