Destroying a perfectly smooth surface
By Heymy Patino Martinez

 

I pick at the scalp—scratch, dig, excavate—and later examine the pieces of myself. On a normal
day, I am golden, olive-toned. The pieces I touch are anything but. The drier parts are flaking and white. I refuse to believe such things are mine. I refuse to believe I have whiteness. I don’t.

 

Towards the back of the dome
Fresh new, shampooed area, soapy space, bump free
Once destroyed, a routine habit, life I finally see

 

Dewy hues of bright crimson, cherry puree, waxy quality
Discovering oneself is far from attractive, unsexy quality

 

That’s not the point, curiosity is
To know oneself, to explore oneself
To reject a colonized lineage, creation occurs when

 

I pick at the scalp—scratch, dig, excavate—and later examine the pieces of myself. On a cloudy
day, I am gloomy, flat-toned. The pieces I touch are anything but. The wetter parts are clinging
and red. I refuse to believe such things aren’t mine. I refuse to believe I’m meaningless. I’m not.

 

Heymy Patiño Martínez is a Mexican writer and educator based in Chicago.