at the bewitching hour
let it be known: i am not grateful
for tragedy. i hold no love
for the years that have worn me
thin as lived-in cotton, down to my
memory who chose to keep only
silence. the spaces within me
that can still well with joy
are reserved for the hours between
midnight and four in the morning
while the world stirs in their beds and i
am aching i’m so alive. faint pulse
rallies my muscles after i trudge home
past two, but only for the glory
of japanese whiskey, neat, sipped
in the kitchen alone. only
for the tealglow of rainfall on tv
mimicking the way your bedroom bathed
in blue when i’d tiptoe around dead bees
and crawl over you, slumbering before
a timed-out screen with your mouth agape.
i lived on for only the promise of moonrise
muffling ringing ears and gnashing teeth,
if only for a few hours.
nat raum (b. 1996) is a queer disabled artist and writer from baltimore, md. they hold a bfa in photography and book arts and they are currently a first-year creative writing mfa candidate at the university of baltimore. nat is also the founder and editor-in-chief of fifth wheel press, a queer literature and art publishing space. past and upcoming publishers of their writing include Kissing Dynamite Poetry, en*gendered lit, and Delicate Friend.
