By Rae Rozman
Cartography of Found Things
i have searched for you in bars and cathedrals across thirty seven states (and two provinces)/watching desert nights for mirages and counting the planets as they drift across the sky/i keep a copy of on the road in the ass pocket of my jean shorts and paint the atlas on my fucking fingernails with an eyelash/who are you to say that i move aimlessly when i drive into sunrises expecting to break free to mourning/i know exactly where i’m going if lost is a direction/ i wander deeper into obscurity just to see what’s on the other side of the veil
Architect (For Bear)
If you build a skyscraper underwater, what do you call it when it breaks the surface/can you hold a space for fish and air at once-your own ecosystem in different dimensions/ I have followed the blueprint, have been still long enough for coral to form over my toes/ and I thought you’d be impressed with how I have become a home, how I have grown into what’s around me–even though I aspire to touch more than sky
Rae Rozman is a middle school counselor in Austin, Texas. Her poetry, which often explores themes of queer love (romantic and platonic), loss, and education, has been published in several literary magazines and anthologies. An avid bookworm, you can often find her curled up in the corner with a novel. For poems, book reviews, and pictures of her two adorable rescue bunnies, you can find her on Instagram @mistress_of_mnemosyne.