"Origin Story in Black and White", Rodrigo Jr Dela Peña
In the beginning, I buried
a metaphor between my flesh
and fingernail. I buried it,
the way people buried my home
in memory. My shoulders slump
when I look for a remedy, lost
in the rooms and hidden
corners of my mind. Let me
begin again: something
was buried beneath my fingers.
Love. A symbol. The window
is locked. The door, jammed
with cloth. Still, heat escapes
and page by page, my body turns
into an archive of loss. Begin
again: I understand it was me.
I was iridescent, changing
with the heat and cold. Folding
and unfolding into the black
and white pattern of the wall. I try
to find myself through a beginning:
I weave my flesh into story.