I am skin and I am not skin. Skin around skin behind skin. Skin touching air touching blue touching you. Skin under hair so coarse it bruises itself. Skin inside bricks outside sun inside someone else. Skin passing over Cairo. Skin a few hours before its birth. Skin without fingers. Skin why. Skin I broke the crystal bird between my legs. Skin fiction me I’ll fiction you. Skin before ablution.
I am and I am notaroundbehindtouching airtouching bluetouching youunder hair so coarse it bruises itselfinside bricksoutside suninside someone elsepassing over Cairoa few hours before its birthwithout fingerswhyI broke the crystal bird between my legsfiction meI’ll fiction youbefore ablution.
Sara Elkamel is a journalist and poet, living between Cairo and New York. She holds an M.A. in Arts & Culture journalism from Columbia University. Her writing has appeared in The Guardian, The Huffington Post, The GroundTruth Project, Guernica, Ahram Online, and elsewhere.