Óscar Moisés Díaz


When the busted fridge empties there
that’s it for the night
our pile of beer bottles is still your fb cover photo
you said I landed a day too late
the day before was some drunk unzipping
stroking his cock at the San Simon shrine
begging for his boyfriend to return
DL soccer players from the national team
the hot topic earlier was that honduran
you said he tops everyone who drinks here
then robs them
he’s been stranded here for months trying to go north
he’s robbed you more times than you can count
I pissed in that rusty toilet
doesn’t flush
faucet missing a knob
now it’s just us feeding the jukebox which
broke and then the bar stopped existing too
you sang a bunch of songs I pretended to know
long anecdotes with each one
you laughed when I said I can tell you’re a novelist
I click the one I do know and
correctly guess your ascendant
told you that since you already understand Simone Weil
you also get what Mars is about
sloppy bachata
the faded green parliament building
stumbling past propping each other up
armed guards staring
you started it
Abu Nuwas don’t give me that look

Óscar Moisés Díaz is a poet-astrologer, translator, and film curator. Currently, they serve as a Poetry in Translation Editor for Fence. They were a 2020-2021 Inaugural Curatorial Fellow at the Poetry Project as a member of Tierra Narrative. Recently they completed a writing residency at the Atlantic Center for the Arts. Other recent poems can be found in Schlag Magazine, A Gathering of the Tribes, the tiny, and The Brooklyn Rail.