What about reverse-racism
leads anyone to ask
what about reverse-racism?
the growly allure–
of alliterative R-words?
I see you, Redskins™-rooters
Or something dumber,
more seductive? Some
special type of marvelous
of disbelief, and relief
manufactured in an abandoned
automobile factory somewhere in a novel.
But wait, there’s more.
How ‘bout reverse-classism? Reverse-oppression?
conniving to cross the Atlantic,
not with bad intentions but with simple curiosity. Human curiosity
that tortures them
in their hearts and, on occasion, in their loins?
who braved the seas,
to seek bodies around which
they could wrap themselves
like skin around a book?
minding his farm
tending his master’s livestock
near Basque foothills
or Castilian fields or Valencian woods
or any other
Without warning, the poor hijo de you-know-what
gets ambushed and mounted
at arrow-point like a half-broken
bus bench or abandoned carnival
ride. The hide-clad conqueresses grind
to a finish and, bored
with their conquests, disappear
like cries shouted into paper, leave
all to wonder: what was the point?
By Oscar Mancinas
My name is Oscar Mancinas. Attached are five poems of mine. I’m a young mestizo from around the way, just trying to survive and thrive. Read other work of mine in Blue Mesa Review, Contraposition Magazine, and latinosbelike.tumblr.com