the sky said trans rights
my dad and i used to saturday
on the shores of loch raven or prettyboy
when the snowfall season befell,
tracing my camera lens across patterns
of windblown ice and snow. tonight i touch
my bare toes to the back deck’s rot
and recall every other time the winter
sky said trans rights, where the bands
of white cirrostratus spread salmonpink
through the setting sun against sealike
sky and i stared until the westward suburbs
stole her away from me. in dreams i
am waveside in the summertime, mountains
away from swamp-level winters, but i see
the most sugarflossed sunsets thread
their way through january and february—
mountain goat and water bearer seasons
of soup and woodstove warmth, the kind
i couldn’t attribute to the hottest summer.
in which we cruise to neon heights
After Mario Party 7
first love’s roulette played like three treasure chests
shuffled around a game board; i eagerly opened
each one in search of a Star, face awash in pinkblue
lights and not yet confronted with the choice of a
Bob-omb inside, waiting to knock me back to where
it started. the Shy Guy with a clapperboard calls
the scene: the meter of your disgust which filled
by the day was almost full, and when it tipped over
i was told don’t worry you’re temporary and so
are your shortcomings. the next scene shows days
later, camera level with my knees on the yarn-flecked
living room carpet, proving i’ve got the guts to go all in.
no one let me win anything when i was growing up;
i came of age knowing i had to play a good game.
nat raum (b. 1996) is a disabled artist, writer, and genderless disaster from Baltimore, MD. They have a BFA (in photography) from Maryland Institute College of Art and are a current MFA candidate at the University of Baltimore. They are also the editor-in-chief of fifth wheel press and the author of you stupid slut and specter dust, among others. Find them online: natraum.com/links.