In transit body suspended in motion—a standstill. In a linear pattern, I transcend time or space; the dilapidated buildings screech past, become etchings of a life, once inhabited, by people, once inhabited, and I remember the last time my body—was a house, broken, in need of repair, shards of glass, sticking out of the knobs of my bones. The broken is familiar. It is the only consistency I’ve known— in the scars that line skin, healed over and over, but still, etched in a linear pattern on the flesh.
In transit— I am suspended above the haunting, lingering reminder that I cannot escape the house of my body.
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.