a fitting suit

sam defaz

There is only a black suit, plastic removed, in my closet

If you can call a cupboard a closet

Don’t let your initial glance deceive you. The suit up close is a

pleasing black with silver threads dropping through it

Equally black buttons to avoid glare

You notice the fine cut of the suit, made just for me

Try it, feels soft right? Looks new?

I’ve had it for years, I care for it often

It means a lot so




I have work at 5 in the morning

and I don’t need sloppy hands ruining my suit



Before I go to work, I think of


              My mother's




                                                                        sister's rear friend

A distant cuñada,

thought of my soft, dark brown hair

and smooth canela skin

in a starchy pressed white shirt

with then uncalloused hands

holding a delicate hat to my center

posing for a family photo to be placed in their



                                                                                      living room.


She's held that alit flame all throughout,

her hands moving fast to finish,             finish,                 finish

that suit


She places her care into my traveling suitcase

to America, a land of wealth

a fitting suit to match



To preserve my suit is an act of care

and preservation is a special universal care



The air here is thin and old,

dust collects even in this 250 square feet room

My money goes out of this room to be happy

You ask where my clothes are?

Folded under my bed in this

small room

Don’t let this glance deceive you

I am happy   

Sam Defaz is a freshman at the University at Albany majoring in Psychology and minoring in Documentary Studies. Their passion for writing was seen as early as elementary school when they handwrote 14 pages, college ruled, for an English assignment. Her principle philosophy in writing is emotional vulnerability through honesty and good jokes. They intend to pursue that philosophy through their own films, short stories, essays, and poetry.