Crispin Rodrigues (b. 1988)
SELECTED POEMS
my race wants me to have a body like joseph schooling
i write in praise of the six lead-lined abs
that indicate victory, glossy from chlorine in
the spotlight's gaze. this is what achievement
looks like, not my doughy body that cannot pass
ippt. the way he throws his hands in the air
after two laps is a fist bump for singapore.
how do i reach out to bump back when
i am too lazy to cross the three-metre mandated
distance that protects my eyesight from getting
worse? the last time you swam, you scuttled
a lap because the children started practising
calling you names. there must be some way
to fist bump a nation without punching it
in its toned gut. joseph, you've set
all the little eurasian boys on a new course,
how do i make something of myself with one
achievement & proper marketing. how can
my good looks buy more than a cup of milo?
how can my nation accept me as pure asian
punya because i have a vision of meritocracy?
i am masculine in all the ways that are not
masculine. I waste water to pretend i am swimming.
joseph, is there a cure for this patriotism
i feel because i am doughy, & oil is hydrophobic,
meaning i am afraid of being a fish out of water.
how can i say i have achieved anything?
there must be a way to grow gills. joseph,
if i fuck underwater, will the pressure built
propel me faster than you? joseph, i must
be good at something. there is at least one
eurasian boy looking at me & i don't want
to disappoint my nephew, i want to teach my him
to be like you. joseph, when i was twelve
my swimming instructor made me blow up
my pyjama pants as a float.
It collapsed on my face & i nearly drowned.
joseph, if you had a son, he’d be named jesus.
st. joseph, take my nephew, i’ve nothing else
left to give.
by Crispin Rodrigues
from dragon.paper.wind (2024)
