a poem | virus (English)

virus

¡dare! invade my body
as you wager… ¡go ahead!
¡celebrate! ¡believe your folly!
that you can win if i’m left dead.

what you don’t know
is what i know from experience:
after your sickening blow
you’ll weaken in futile resistance.

but even if you win
your joy will be ephemeral
and life much like the wind.
in sum, my body is your coffin
and with my funeral
yours begins.


virus is featured in Réquiem, by Luis S. González-Acevedo


un poema | virus (español)

virus

¡atrévete! invade mi cuerpo
y al apostar en este mundo incierto
¡celebra! confía en tu pensar inepto:
que podrás ganar si me dejas muerto.

lo que no sabes
es lo que sé por experiencia
y aunque no te agrade
decaerás en tu inútil resistencia.

aunque seas el víctor
tu deleite será efímero
y la vida como el viento.
en fin, mi cuerpo será tu féretro
y con mi entierro
comenzará el tuyo.


virus se publicó en el poemario Réquiem, por Luis S. González-Acevedo


a poem | Your Covid–19 Death Wish

Your Covid–19 Death Wish

–september 23, 2020–

May the universe grant you
the so-called freedom you seek.
My goal is not to change your foolish views,
nor rustic thoughts birthed by your feet.

May the grant be yours, and only yours.
And if George Washington prefers,
let him readily confer
such freedom and its idiocy,
as you bask in your delinquency
and stupidity of life without a mask.
For George, it’s an easy task.

Do you realize that we speak
of your suicide?
Your arrogance and trumpery1 at its peak…

Even more than simple homicide,
it’s the battery & murder of those you might infect.

God speaks to you, his-her-its message don’t reject:
let others live happily
with their masks under “oppression.”

But should you want to live satanically…
Well, as for you and your fetishized transgression,
may the angels see you as you are: a murderer,
an aggressor,
an ass, and the epitome of retrogression.


1Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary: worthless nonsense, trivial or useless articles –First Known Use: 15th century, Middle English (Scots) trompery deceit, from Middle French, from tromper to deceive.

1Oxford Dictionary: attractive articles of little value or use, practices or beliefs that are superficially or visually appealing but have little real value or worth, showy but worthless, delusive or shallow –Origin: late Middle English (denoting trickery): from Old French tromperie, from tromper ‘deceive’.


Your Covid–19 Death Wish is featured in Réquiem, by Luis S. González-Acevedo


a poem | May we have a home?

I dedicate this poem to those who have been denied a home because of race or ethnicity.

May we have a home?

The immigrants stood at their prospective landlord’s door in latent panic,
their only way to beg for an apartment
and secure their children’s smooth adjustment;
but they weren’t Anglo nor Germanic.
The couple was persistent. Caribbean Hispanics
battered by their circumstances and haggard
–yet intent on flying skyward.
But in the end, their mobile souls bled
when the soulless landlord said:
“I’m sorry, but you’re not the right Hispanic. –You know, European… Spaniards.”


May we have a home? is featured in Réquiem, by Luis S. González-Acevedo
The poem is also featured in Caribbean Poet, by Luis S. González-Acevedo


a poem | “Don’t spic English, I”

I dedicate this poem to those who without knowing a language have had to speak it...

“Don’t spic English, I”

Father told me, “Tell them…”
“I don’t speak English,”
because I understood the world in Spanish.
On a school day and acutely shy –ahem, ahem…
Reinventing grammar, I told them:
“Don’t speak English, I.”
The sentence was only close to right.
I could have died!
But like an outsider who would NOT be defeated,
my courageous little mouth and lips repeated:
“Jes! Don’t spic English, I.”


“Don’t spic English, I” is featured in Réquiem, by Luis S. González-Acevedo
The poem is also featured in Caribbean Poet, by Luis S. González-Acevedo