you are a sheet of paper—crumple
and you keep your shape. rip and there
is still enough of you left to be mostly
whole. find yourself in the hands
of others and it’s anyone’s game—
some handle with care while others
leave impressions on your softrigid
surface each time they touch you.
your blank body is at one point a
possibility, at one point a thing
you won’t touch. now you look back
and see the stains from where you
introduced dirt and ink to your endless
expanse of space as yet untampered with.
now you bear the marks of decisions.
you may never blot out each blemish,
but you can shred yourself to pulp
again, mold yourself anew out of
the scraps of your former self. you can
remake yourself if you need to.
nat raum (b. 1996) is a disabled artist, writer, and genderless disaster from Baltimore, MD. They’re the editor-in-chief of fifth wheel press, as well as the author of you stupid slut, the abyss is staring back, random access memory, and several chapbooks. Find them online: natraum.com/links.