address to a past version of my body - nat raum

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.

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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.