100 Refutations: Day 91

Costa Rica Says to Donald Trump “You’re Fired” (Carepicha)

I heard somewhere—from a head-
line, or from my father / ’s ashen lips—that 45
*******has landed in Costa Rica
to negotiate its buying                its selling                the latest, inevitable development
of a colonial green, not unlike the second-
ary forest where my family lives
among the guarias / their bone-white cattle / my slender monsters

one more monster we might be able to handle
but I’m not banking on it

I hope that when he sets his mustard seed eyes
on these peaks / our purple seas at dusk / the millions of birds
*******who sing my grandmother’s song
he’ll see the shit hole
**********************of which he speaks

and not a golden toilet                with a golden bowl / and golden lid
(because all of us have scratched off its sheen / dented the precious
metal with our grandfathers’ machetes / dirtied the water with our own blood)
*******and disappointed, he gets back on his plane / rides a smooth jet stream
straight into the sun
so that we might, from our front porches of concrete / tin / coffee beans
and tiny glints silver
**********************witness the most spectacular sunset
**********************and turn to each other to whisper           Está despedido


John Manuel Arias

John Manuel Arias is a gay Costa Rican and Uruguayan poet back in Washington, DC after many years. He is a Canto Mundo fellow and bookseller at Politics and Prose. His poetry has appeared in Sixth Finch, the Journal, and Assaracus: A Journal of Gay Poetry, and his fiction has been published by Akashic Books, the Acentos Review, and Cardinal Sins Journal. Before living in DC, he lived in Costa Rica with his grandmother and four ghosts. You can find more of his work at his website.

John Manuel Arias

This is not a translation, but rather an English poem written by author John Manuel Arias.

Copyright (c) John Manuel Arias, 2018.