Dariana Guerrero

The touch
of experienced hands                       reaching,
collidingwithmyflesh
searching for an answer
buried in a pit.

I thought I would remember my mother and brother
avoiding eye contact like disease was contractible
call the CDC
Hazmat
mi sangre
all the same
it’s the same
flows the same,
can’t change genetics
can’t slice chromosomes
can’t put masking tape on scars.
Papi wouldn’t have cried for me.

Allá y aquí
llorando y pensando.
The island is more
than bachata and subtle rejection.
The trick is to keep calm
in times of danger.
Papi will call.

I only needed
a shot of radiation.
Six days in a hospital bed
country code lights up
on cell phone screens,
inducing remission.

About the Author

Dariana D. Guerrero currently teaches English at the secondary level in Massachusetts. She graduated with a B.A. in English Language and Literature from Smith College in 2017 and is pursuing her M.A. in English Literature at the Bread Loaf School of English at Middlebury College. Dariana has been published in a variety of national and internationally recognized literary magazines and journals such as Glass: A Journal of Poetry and Women: A Cultural Review. Dariana calls Lawrence, Massachusetts home.