Conchy’s boy

Lorenzo Javier Diaz-Cruz


the July 26th movement would like to take credit on my behalf, but it is not true
I am Conchy’s boy. The Guanahatabeys, Taino and Siboney culture would like to take credit on my behalf, after all, they give me my wide nose, brown dick, and short brawny stature, but it is not the whole truth, I am Conchy’s boy. The streets of Pinar del Rio which bore me, nurtured me in the villages of Briones Montoto, Cayo Conuco, La Coloma, they would like to say, I was born like the white-faced whistling duck—ass first, already knowing how to whistle, but it is not true, I was born head first and I could not whistle until I was 3.

the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration service, would like to take credit for filling our case, spitting us out in Louisville, KY, and granting us permeant residence for ten years upon which can then be renewed through a fee of $540 dollars: a $455 application fee and an $85 biometrics fee, and an updated passport-style picture of your face, the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration would like to say, I am a product of post–‘wet foot, dry foot’ policies, an escapee of Castro communism, an anti-Kennedy Republican, but it’s not true, they don’t fuckin know me, I am Conchy’s boy.

Ahora los académicos, simpatizantes, revistas literarias, los "I would have voted for Obama for a third term if I could have” crowd would like to say, I owe them and should address my checks to Affirmative Action, should vote in the midterm elections, should check my temper at the front door and swipe my green card to be let in, they would like to think, I am theirs, but they don’t know that I like pan con dulce de guava y los Boston Red Sox.

There has even been a recent bid from the state of Israel to claim me, even though I am an expatriate, they have been kind to me, even giving me a 14 karat gold chain necklace, and it has made me think, perhaps I too could be one of God’s children, but this can’t be the entire truth, no, I am Conchy’s boy.

as a little kid, to not use our monthly utilities, you would fill a bucket of water up and bathe me and yermito in our backyard, the stray dogs of cuba would stop by and try to steal in a free shower, they thought it was all for them


Lorenzo Javier Diaz-Cruz is a Cuban poet, born in Pinar Del Rio, Cuba. His family immigrated during Cuba’s Special Period of Peace in 1994 to the United States. Lorenzo Diaz Cruz’s poetry deals with themes of isolationism, masculinity, and Guilt with a capital G. He currently teaches at the University of Michigan as part of the Helen Zell Writer’s Program, and will be entering into his “Zell Year” in the coming months.