{"id":1729,"date":"2025-03-05T10:44:55","date_gmt":"2025-03-05T15:44:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/alphabetbox.com\/?page_id=1729"},"modified":"2025-03-05T17:10:06","modified_gmt":"2025-03-05T22:10:06","slug":"issue-8-jonathan-fletcher","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/alphabetbox.com\/submissions\/issue-8-jonathan-fletcher\/","title":{"rendered":"Issue 8… Jonathan Fletcher"},"content":{"rendered":"

Pictured, Jonathan Fletcher meets <\/em><\/span>Dr. Cornel West.<\/span><\/em><\/span><\/a><\/p>\n

\"Picture<\/p>\n

Citizen<\/span><\/h6>\n

Citizen that I am,
\nI take my daily constitutional,
\ndetention in the back
\nof my mind because I look the way I look<\/span>.
\nIn Newark, New Jersey,
\nthey questioned citizens, even a veteran.
\nI myself never served.
\nI don’t have the courage.
\nThe mere presence of ICE
\nwould make me freeze.
\nA hard knock at my door would make me
\nquake. Though a believer
\nno longer, my fingers and head
\nbend together when I read of pastors
\nready to protect their flock
\nfrom upright wolves,
\neach badged and armed. Though a student
\nno more, I’ll learn
\nwhat I can about the rights
\nof the undocumented, educate
\nmy nervous students
\nin what no uniform can take.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oh, How Homophobic I Once Was, <\/span>Sometimes Am!<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n

If only I could swallow
\nall the times I used the homophobic slur
\nthat starts with f<\/em>,\"The
\nsubstitute and repeat fabulous,
\nfantastic, fine <\/em>and fun<\/em>
\nfor every instance of that ugly language,
\nas if rosaried penance from a priest.
\nAnd only I could find and apologize
\nto Carter for imitating
\nthe way he walked in the halls
\nof our private military all-boys school,
\nwrapped his torso and hair
\nwith towels in the locker room,
\ndanced around the field
\nwhile we threw the ball to anyone
\nbut him, and if he goes
\nby Carter no longer,
\nI’d ask him to forgive me that, too.
\nAnd if I could go back to 2015
\nand instead of qualifying
\nand emphasizing that I was
\nnot gay when I told a friend I planned
\nto attend my first parade
\nof this kind, I’d let them think
\nwhat they want and worry
\nnot about what they might say,
\nand would feel (as I do now,
\nknowing finally who I am)
\nthe absolute opposite of shame.<\/span><\/p>\n

Observer<\/span><\/h6>\n

March 26, 1997, Rancho Santa Fe, California<\/span><\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Eyes like saucers
\nas I watch the TV, view from helicopter,
\nperspective of a UFO:
\nbody after body enshrouded white,
\ncarried out. 39 in all.
\nTerracotta roofs, arched doorways,
\nwrought iron accents,\"Picture
\nopen courtyards.
\nSkies San Diego-quality.
\nSuch a life, who’d want to leave?
\nEven for a higher existence?
\nMaybe the problem is me.
\nI can’t watch a corner of the night sky
\nturn comet-bright
\nwithout thinking of the darkness
\nit accentuates.
\nOr marvel at Hale-Bopp as it passes
\nwithout thinking
\nof the flying rock that lizard-like eyes
\nwould once have glimpsed,
\nmight well have worshiped
\nhad it not been for the dust and fire.<\/span><\/p>\n

Brothers<\/span><\/h6>\n

According to the Peterson Institute for International Economics, the service sector prices would increase 1.7% if the Trump administration deported all the immigrants working in the restaurant industry here illegally.<\/em><\/p>\n

Hungry as Esau,
\n<\/span>you crave more than the dishes
\nmade and served
\nby those you consider less
\nthan blessed.
\nForget menudo. Forget pozole.
\nForget caldo de res.
\nWith teeth that chomp as much as gnash,
\nyou chew ’til there’s only bone in bowl.
\nAnd yet, you still crave more.
\nYou want them gone.
\nYou want their jobs.
\nYou want the birthright
\nof their children.
\nLike Isaac, I cannot see
\nthe difference between them and you.
\nGarment me in red hair.
\nShave me smooth as Jacob.
\nWould I not be the same person?
\nWhat is the body but clothing?
\nWith knife, divide the blessing.
\nOr, in cursing them, curse yourself.<\/span>\"SpanishMy Conquistadores<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

We’ll give you God,
\nyou give us gold.
\nOffer your wrists.
\nOffer your children.
\nMine the land
\nfor cinnabar.
\nMine yourselves,
\nextract it all.
\nIf you had souls,
\nwe’d take them, too.
\nPray to a man
\naround a cross.
\nCross yourself
\nbefore the Virgin.
\nThe virgin land,
\nwe will flatten,
\nthen raise haciendas
\nas well as churches.
\nOurselves, too,
\nwe will raise,
\nturn brown skin
\npinkish-red.
\nTell Jonathan
\nwe are coming.
\nLook out for
\nthe caravels.
\nListen for
\nhorseshoed hooves.
\nFeel the stab
\nof the end
\nof a red, saltired flag.
\nCarry us
\ninside of you.
\nGird yourself
\nin lustrous armor.
\nWear a steel morion.
\nYour future children,
\nthey are ours.
\nYour Spaniard blood,
\nwe also claim.
\nDare you try
\nto get us out.
\nAre we not
\nalso you?<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Jonathan Fletcher<\/span><\/strong> holds a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from Columbia University School of the Arts.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\"Jonathan
Photo courtesy of <\/em>Juli\u00e1n P. Ledezma.<\/em><\/a><\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

His work has been featured in numerous literary publications and he has won several writing contests. He is a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Best Microfiction nominee, and won Northwestern University Press\u2019 Drinking Gourd Chapbook Poetry Prize in 2023, by which his debut chapbook — This is My Body<\/a><\/span> — was published only weeks ago. He serves as a Zoeglossia Fellow and resides in San Antonio, Texas.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Click to read Alphabet Box’s interview with Jonathan Fletcher.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

We also invite you to follow Jonathan’s posts on Bluesky @jmfletcher15.bsky.social<\/a><\/span> and learn more about his educational and community engagement on h<\/em>is Facebook page<\/a>.<\/span><\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

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