there’s layers to this shit

by nat raum

my parents take grey vinyl, panel over
the wooden house i grew up in. the bats,
which once lived in the eaves

of their carport, have nowhere to sleep
now, so they leave. summers pass. it’s a few
years before my dad says bats eat their weight

in mosquitos. indeed, there are scabs
from scratching my ankles and scalds
from the backs of spoons. what i am saying

is a decision is never just a decision
anymore—it’s always a cut in the fabric
of the universe.

______

nat raum is a disabled artist, writer, editor, and genderless disaster based on unceded Piscataway and Susquehannock land in Baltimore. Past and upcoming publishers of their writing include Split Lip Magazine, Baltimore Beat, Poet Lore, beestung, and others. Find them online at natraum.com.

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