Joan’s Produce | Nat Raum

after phil collins

on my way home from work (i took a 

half day) i drove by the produce stand 

in the woods or where she used to be

grown over cable pulled across the threshold 

last night my father drove me home this way 

at twilight phil collins on the radio

said i’ve been waiting for this moment

for all my life (oh, lord)

waning dusk reminds me of solomon’s island in 

the summertime lcd glowing in my lap streams of

sorry for your loss weather channel says

feels like 42 i sweat in my camel hair coat

tears surface but never fall silence screams

in the overgrowth thistles breach compacted dirt

unweeded for years on end i’ve waited for this i’ve

dreaded it too we learn to fly or crash like waves 

on the bayshore the way we went out fishing one day

brackish swells surrounding us we circled like a pack of crows

come dawn (come twilight again) the boats come back

to port the harbor glows like mulholland through my 

mother’s rose-tinted sunglasses

nat raum (they/she, b. 1996) is just trying their best right now. they are 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 photography. when not making art, they enjoy listening to sad music in the sort of bisexual lighting that makes their bedroom look like an a24 movie set. nat is also the founder and editor-in-chief of fifth wheel press (@fifthwheelpress on instagram/twitter). they post pretty pictures of their life on instagram @national_bohemian and you can view their prior publications and full portfolio at natraum.com.