Josẽ Olivarez - Citizen Illegal

About the BreakBeat Poets series The BreakBeat Poets series, curated by Kevin Coval and Nate Marshall, is committed to work that brings the aesthetic of hip-hop practice to the page. These books are a cipher for the fresh, with an eye always to the next. We strive to center and showcase some of the most exciting voices in literature, art, and culture. BreakBeat Poets series titles include:The BreakBeat Poets: New American Poetry in the Age of Hip-Hop, edited by Kevin Coval, Quraysh Ali Lansana, and Nate Marshall This Is Modern Art: A Play, Idris Goodwin and Kevin Coval The BreakBeat Poets Vol. 2: Black Girl Magic, edited by Mahogany L. Browne, Jamila Woods, and Idrissa Simmonds Human Highlight, Idris Goodwin and Kevin Coval On My Way to Liberation, H.

Melt Black Queer Hoe, Britteney Black Rose Kapri Citizen Illegal, Jos Olivarez Graphite, Patricia Frazier The BreakBeat Poets Vol. 3: Halal if You Hear Me, edited by Fatimah Asghar and Safia Elhillo There are Trans People Here, H. Melt Commando, Emon Lauren 2018 Jos Olivarez Published in 2018 by Haymarket Books P.O. Box 180165 Chicago, IL 60618 773-583-7884 www.haymarketbooks.org ISBN: 978-1-60846-955-0 Trade distribution: In the US, Consortium Book Sales and Distribution, www.cbsd.com In Canada, Publishers Group Canada, www.pgcbooks.ca In the UK, Turnaround Publisher Services, www.turnaround-uk.com All other countries, Ingram Publisher Services International, This book was published with the generous support of Lannan Foundation and Wallace Action Fund. Special discounts are available for bulk purchases by organizations and institutions. Cover artwork by Sentrock.

Cover design by Brett Neiman. Printed in Canada by union labor. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is available. For Pedro, Ruben, & DannyNot bad, huh, for some immigrants JAY-Z I(Citizen) (Illegal) Mexican woman (illegal) and Mexican man (illegal) have a Mexican (illegal)-American (citizen). is the baby more Mexican or American? place the baby in the arms of the mother (illegal). he goes to school (citizen). his classmates are American (citizen). he is outcast (illegal). his hellos are in the wrong language (illegal). he takes the hyphen separating loneliness (Mexican) from friendship (American) and jabs it at the culprit (illegal). himself (illegal). his own traitorous tongue (illegal). his name (illegal). his mom (illegal). his dad (illegal). take a Mexican woman (illegal) and a Mexican man (illegal). if they have a baby and the baby looks white enough to pass (citizen). if the baby grows up singing Selena songs to his reflection (illegal). if the baby hides from el cucuy and la migra (illegal). if the baby (illegal) (citizen) grows up to speak broken Spanish (illegal) and perfect English (citizen). if the boys nickname is Gerito (citizen). if the boy attends college (citizen). if the boy only dates women (illegal) of color (illegal). if the boy (illegal) uses phrases like women of color (citizen). if the boy (illegal) (citizen) writes (illegal) poems (illegal). if the boy (citizen) (illegal) grows up (illegal) and can only write (illegal) this story in English (citizen), does that make him more American (citizen) or Mexican (illegal)? My Parents Fold Like Luggage my parents fold like luggage into the trunk of a Toyota Tercel. stars glitter against a black sky. from the sky, the Tercel is a small lady bug traveling north. from the sky, borders do not exist. the Tercel stops in front of a man in green. stars glitter like broken glass. the night so heavy it chokes. in the trunk, it is starless. my parents protect this moment. this now. what folds them into the trunk of a Tercel. the belief that the folding will end. it doesnt. dollars fold into bills. my parents near breaking. broke. they protect what might unfold them to discover they are six: a family. if the man in green opens the trunk, the road folds back. this moment & everything that follows disappears into the ink of a police report. why doesnt he open the trunk? my parents say god blessed us. maybe they are right, but i think about that night & wonder where god wasa million miles away in the stars, in the shared breath between my parents, maybe everywhere. maybe nowhere. from the sky, the man in green is so small it is impossible to see him wave. from the sky, it is impossible to hear whether my parents cheer or pray as the car steals north. Mexican Heaven all of the Mexicans sneak into heaven. St. St.

Peter has their names on the list, but the Mexicans havent trusted a list since Ronald Reagan was president. River Oaks Mall its hard to hold onto a secret whether or not anyone is looking. when the girl i have a crush on asks why i keep looking at her, i say its not like i like you, gosh. denial is one of the best ways to confess. when the teacher asks who brought beans for lunch, i blame it on the boy next to me. trying too hard is another way to confess. my family takes a Saturday stroll through the mall dressed in church clothes. every other kid in jeans, t-shirts, & Jordans. fun fact: when you have to try to blend in you can never blend in. my dad gives me a penny to throw into a fountain that makes dreams come true. all my dreams except one. my family trying so hard to be American it was transparent. My Therapist Says Make Friends with Your Monsters we are gathered in truth, because my therapist said it was time to stop running, & i pay my therapist too much to be wrong, so i am here. my monsters look almost human in the sterile office light. my monsters say they want to be friends. i remember when we first met, me & my monsters. i remember the moment i planted each one. each time i tried to shed a piece of myself, it grew into a monster. take this one with the collar of belly fat the monster called Chubby, Husky, Gordito. i climbed out of that skin as fast as i could, only to see some spirit give it legs. i ran & it never stopped chasing me. each new humiliation coming to life & following after me. after me, a long procession of sad monsters. each monster hungry to drag me back, to return me to the dirt i came from. ashes to ashes, fat boy to fat. my monsters crowd around me, my therapist says i cant make the monsters disappear no matter how much i pay her. all she can do is bring them into the room, so i can get to know them, so i can learn their names, so i can see clearly their toothless mouths, their empty hands, their pleading eyes. Boy & The Belt the belt is an extension of dad & dad is an extension of god. the boy is an extension of dad, too. the belt is just one thread tying them together. the boy prays the belt stays wrapped around dads waist. the belt does not believe in god, but if the belt did believe in anything, the belt would call it purpose. the belt began as skin on a cow. its purpose was to protect & it failed. the boy knows all about that. the boy has purpose too. dad & god & mostly he fails. the belts new purpose is to holdto contain dads expanding waistexcept when the boy fights, then the belt is born again as a classroom ruler with the days lesson. maybe the belt & the boy can rebel. the boy tugs at the thread that will bring dad & the belt. the boy wont lie about his bruised brother or call it anything noble. the boy fights because he is bigger. dad says he has no choice. the belt says it has no choice. the boy understands he displeases god. when the belt meets the boy, the belt kisses the boy & leaves purple lipstick. dad understands this as an act of love. the belt doesnt know about love. the belt knows it completed its job. & the boy hears love.