crown of love
find me hopelessly devoted to you
by nat raum
After Arcade Fire and Play’s 2004 self-titled album
i.
i’m gonna make you love me, i decide
on a whim in the winter in the wind.
i close my eyes when i fantasize
at night alone and what do i see?
your tongue laps up the beads
of my sweat mixed with lavender oil
mixed with yours. your lips dot
my collarbone with the sweet of saliva.
we are just as much two people
in love as we are two bodies writhing
in the deep recesses of shared
hunger. isn’t it funny how long
we wanted each other before giving
in? now it’s us against the world.
ii.
now it’s us against the world
and we’re kissing and we’re dancing
even though you don’t dance
but you said maybe, if you get drunk
and someone else wants to.
we fell in love during virus season
and never got to go dancing.
i have never been the belle
of someone else’s ball—only
my own in a dream one time.
i close my eyes again and watch
us descend the marble staircase,
my arm crooked into your crisp
wool suit, done up like cinderella.
iii.
face done up like cinderella, i glide
down carpeted stairs in a pink cutout
tee and lace bike shorts; you stand
on my porch. i’ve known it was love
but never held your hand in mine
and never felt those lips. juliet told
romeo you kiss by the book but you
have a whole new slew of techniques
about which no one ever wrote.
lay me down in the embrace
of whatever it is that draws you
so close to the tissues of my atria.
is is true that you still want me forever?
find me hopelessly devoted to you.
iv.
find me hopelessly devoted find me
falling find me fallen. find me
in the cavities of your deepest
daydreams where i’ve seeped
and stayed and set myself up.
you may occupy my every
brain wave but i’m always
growing new wrinkles and new
ways to become obsessed
with your touch. i thought i had
seen all there was in the realm
of love until i took you as a lover
and found myself awestruck,
beaming, asking is it love?
v.
is it love or is it obsession or is it
both because i always thought
obsession was a bad thing until
i met you, so good thing i am
already so predisposed to be
obsessed with someone.
you show me hungry greedy
handsy and instead of cringing
i say more, please. i’ve begged
the universe for this exactly
a thousand times and only met
people who couldn’t carry
the weight of my love.
i don’t get down like that.
vi.
i don’t get down like that and by that
i mean playing hide and seek
with the contents of my heart.
someone does not simply watch friends
die young and decide to be quiet about how
they feel. (it’s me, i’m the someone.) i could
say we speak the same philosophy
but that would be mighty presumptuous.
i digress again. i could never be so silent
in the face of the love of my life.
i will always sing along to your joyful
melody, slap-happy with each high note
i manage to match. your earworm
slips into me like a disco hippie.
vii.
slip into me like a disco hippie
and stay for a while in the folds
of my softening skin. i never welcomed
company but i’d die to see you starlit,
haloed in the twilight of false spring
as another day drops and your lips
curl up to first smile and then meet
mine. you will always be the river
i follow, mouth to silty mouth, silt
to dirt to dust. there is nothing
more natural than our rhythm,
the way we flow together like
a-one and two and three and four:
i’m gonna make you love me more.
nat raum (b. 1996) is a disabled artist, writer, and genderless disaster based on unceded Piscataway and Susquehannock land in Baltimore. They’re the editor-in-chief of fifth wheel press and the author of this book will not save you, the abyss is staring back, random access memory, and others. Past and upcoming publishers of their writing include Gone Lawn, Split Lip Magazine, Allium, and BRUISER. Find them online at natraum.com.