Diego Alejandro Fernandez originally wanted to study philosophy but he says he didn’t want to be told what to think. Now the FGCU senior is studying anthropology with a minor in creative writing and he plans to get his master’s degree in creative writing. Here is his poem “On a Shelf”.
On a Shelf by Diego Alejandro Fernandez
of immortal irises and
regular heart beats,
I know little.
I steal deserts
from the unwatching,
sliding in shadow of red fur
and a one fanged grin.
I drink these things freely given.
Years
and trees in crystalline bottles
like old ink.
Some I do forget,
I’m sorry to say,
but some are polished beetles
of rainbow skeleton
on my shelf,
bright as morning birth.
I steal deserts because I was
born for the sea.
Young,
I was dehydrated by my parents,
who wanted plastic plants
in their house.
But the sea and moon give me
a bag of rain and a jar of salt
to pass out,
“gifts,”
and I steal my pay,
and watch it go.
I am a typewriter, dried of age
and displayed in a cage
bought for birds
and I am a gratuitous
and grateful thief.
I have become a desert so fine,
watch my dunes dance,
and my parched reptiles
bake,
watch it all quake under
the haze of sun’s
last breath,
watch me freeze
and sing for the moon,
sing for the moon
until she sends a kiss
to the sea
and they give me
salt and rain.
I am a fox
and I’ll play you a tune
on my ukulele to make accordions
laugh to tearing,
smile to spilling
sand, sand, sand,
and I’ll be gone, I don’t lie.
I’ve told you mine, so now,
let me hear,
what’s your name?
Tell me a story.