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Lost in Translation: A Spaniard With English Ears, a poem by Vincent Corsaro

Lost in Translation: A Spaniard With English Ears
by Vincent Cosaro

Language is a shifty puta.
Play around with it just right
and you can build bridges between tongues.
Use only the shape of ink
and write on a thin strip of Spanish wood.

The sky is a cello.
The dog is a pair of boots.
Red rivers urge me to row home
as wolves chew on low bones.”

Add more filler
a handful of black and white chords
some música.
Abstract thought is in style now.
The gringos will think you’re an artist,
that you have something special in your mind.

Go smoke on food mars.
Your feet are nothing but old pies,
lukewarm, unmoving.
You sleep with a bad case of dorm ears.
Your shoes hold zapped out toes.
You can’t eat, you comb air
like a photosynthesizing plant
a large metal tree, upside down
a bowl.”

They’ll have no clue you’re full of mierda
that you have a small book,
a pocket translator,
turning your native tongue
into some lengua ludica.

Write like a mala traducción.
They’ll think it’s art.
Just don’t tell them
you’re actually a linguist.

Vincent Corsaro is an MFA student at Butler University. He was born in raised in Indianapolis, and is involved in both the musical and writing communities in the city. He describes himself an avid rock climber, reader, musician, and person. In the spring of 2018, he published his first work of fiction in IU's Canvas Literary Arts Journal.