Rosewood Lane by Nat Raum
barring acts of god it’s just my subconscious that
wants to kill me tornadoes gripped me with such fear my
heart skipped every time the treetops swayed (i stopped
hearing the rain fall eventually) strangers drive pickups
up and down the right bank of the creek skidding through
the carport in freefall with locked brakes when it creeps
in sometimes the green brume of a hailstorm still descends upon me
[before i sleep i kneel at my bedside only to count out pomegranate seeds for each circle of hell and line them up like this process of purgatory resembles anything with that much structure before savoring each bite of saccharine sour one by one.]
the underworld is brick and ivy and manicured lawns (i am the
only omniscient narrator here) seventeen gold dollars
under my tongue i’ve done nothing in centuries except run
around looking for doors that lock alleyway whispers hopping
fences under cover of darkness as i keenly gaze across the water
nat raum (they/she, b. 1996, twitter user @sausage_candle) is a queer a multimedia artist and writer currently working towards their mfa at the university of baltimore. their work is based primarily on their experience living with c-ptsd and often takes the form of books and zines that combine writing and visual work. nat is also the founder and editor-in-chief of fifth wheel press.