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  • Camilo Vazquez

Dry My Skin

I never fell into the River,

I was thrown.

I never succumbed to the current

I fought it to a standstill.

From the riverbank

it appeared as if I was floating place.

But under the surface

my legs kicked

with mindless fury.

I could only kick for so long,

until the aching and


was too much to bear.

Eventually I crawled out

of the River

and walked back into the house.

with each step

I left behind a reminder,

a stain

on the spotless, pristine floor

of the house of complacency.

They yell at me for each puddle

I create

a disruption in their house

of illusion.

They tell me to dry off,

but only hand me a rag.

One day I will stop kicking my legs,

one day I will leave the house,

one day I will stop fighting.

I will let the current

take me away

and the sun

dry my skin.

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