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Two Poems by Jordan Castro

Jordan Castro

Faultless Couple

It was somebody’s fault, but according to him it was not his. She, however, claimed it wasn’t her fault either. It is not my fault, he said. Well it isn’t my fault, she said.
 

Gardeners

They’d planned to have a garden, but everything they planted died. They planted kale, but it died. They planted tomatoes, but they died. They consulted gardening books, the internet, even their old alcoholic neighbor, but every new thing the couple tried failed.

I-90 Mutilated Acres

Adam Fell

Somewhere near Poynette
our waxwings fail /

Like snow setting
on youthless kites /

thrushed to less /
godwit brimming /

We sing / we sever / we save /

The mute engineering
of our own pried open country

gives our green abundance

away / in gasps / Our hush
the husk of all good intentions /

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.

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