Skin

I.

And when my feet bury
in sand

I think childhood, grain
sticking to pore,

new skin I can’t shed,
not even

drowning in ocean.

II.

And when my hands crackle
like wood

I think knowledge, fire
consuming skin,

ash that can’t be swept
by wind

nor another fire.

III.

And when my neck crooks
like river reed

I think grit, bendable
skin that won’t

break, always turning
in the same

direction—downstream.

***

Dariel Suarez was born in Havana, Cuba, where he lived until 1997. He now resides in South Florida with his wife. He recently graduated from Florida International University, where he was the recipient of five literary awards. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in several publications, including The Florida Book Review, SmokeLong Quarterly, elimae, Barrier Islands Review, and The Acentos Review. Dariel will soon be pursuing an MFA in creative writing.

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  1. […] asked Dariel: “How do you choose between poetry or fiction for a particular […]

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