NOWHERE

Turned sixteen on manmade lakes and took 
to wide streets screaming about supernatural abuses knew 
who would call child protection and who would let us in 
their armchairs a moment longer longed 
for each other mortified outlandish went to houseparties 
dressed as tempests we were pests and we knew it we knew 
they wanted us at the edge of extinction cut our hair 
in the shape of electrocution lined our eyes with soot and set 
each other on fire behind twenty four hour pharmacies 
washed our feet with fire extinguishers threw our sneakers away 
when they got too full of blood fled our parents 
if we had any flagrant fragrant vacant 
children lit cigarettes in front of our own missing posters 
cultivated edge in whiskey bars took more and more until 
the world shifted into a grid a mask of understanding until it turned 
Cartesian followed the lead drummer down 
into the pit where the walls were dirt and the only light 
was an open sign we touched ourselves because 
who else we kept ourselves always on the edge 
of a crowd stayed up for days on inflatable mattresses tracing 
our exquisite points decadent delicate derelict 
moonless went to supermarkets in our best human skin to feel 
the dropped hand the mother just in the next aisle 
and roared in pain when no one was there not even to leave us

---

Gaia Rajan is the author of Killing It (Black Lawrence Press, 2022). His work has appeared in the Academy of American Poets Poem-A-Day, Best New Poets, the Best of the Net anthology, The Kenyon Review, and elsewhere. Gaia is an undergraduate at Carnegie Mellon University. He lives in Pittsburgh and online at @gaiarajan on Twitter or Instagram.