BIO
Ariel Francisco is the author of All My Heroes Are Broke (C&R Press, 2017) and Before Snowfall, After Rain (Glass Poetry Press, 2016). Born in the Bronx to Dominican and Guatemalan parents, he completed his MFA at Florida International University in Miami. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Academy of American Poets, The American Poetry Review, Best New Poets 2016, Gulf Coast, Washington Square, and elsewhere. He lives and teaches in South Florida.
RUINS OF EARLIEST CHURCH IN AMERICA
DISCOVERED IN FLORIDA
Hurricane Matthew missed us but
really fucked up St. Augustine, tore
out a shopping mall to reveal a five-
hundred year old skeleton, folded
arms pressed against his chest, head
facing east, staring down the storm
that let the air wash over him once
again. Is there anything more Florida
than being buried under a church that
will be buried under a shopping mall
that will be ripped open by a hurricane
named after one of the twelve apostles?
All I know is I don’t want to die here
but if I do, bury me so deep that no
one ever finds me. Listen, I know you
can't dig very far into the Florida ground
but please promise me that when your
shovel breaks the final limestone and
splashes dark water, you’ll keep digging.
MY DAD WENT TO CUBA AND ALL I GOT
WAS THIS SHITTY HEMINGWAY T-SHIRT
Too big and too ugly, the same shade of
orange as my old Home Depot apron,
his big square face square in the middle
like a team logo, his sloppy combover
the waves that punch at the Malecón—
he looks half drunk, half sad, and I think
that’s how I must look when I’m rejected
by a beautiful woman at the bar— yes,
that must be what the bartender sees
when I order my umpteenth rum & coke,
bite the lime wedge like a mouthguard.