by nat raum
i am meant to exist as fragments (or forearm bones)
for three or four days, tops. it is possible i’ve been
fending off harm with the flimsiest bits of skeleton
all this time and maybe that’s why i sink to my knees
in defeat so often, pixels cracking apart to swamp
soil and a bloodkissed X on my sheikah slate
map. i moonlight as a stalkoblin when i am not
gliding through gerudo canyon in the afternoon
cool; i creak and crackle until the blow of a looted
claymore separates the limbs i’d tied together with my
remaining tendons. i am meant to lap at the searing
ruby light-tendrils of a blood moon and go no further.
nat raum (b. 1996) is a disabled artist, writer, and genderless disaster from Baltimore, MD. They’re a current MFA candidate and also the editor-in-chief of fifth wheel press. Past publishers of their work include Delicate Friend, perhappened, Corporeal Lit, and trampset. Find them online: natraum.com/links.