Current
Issue
Fall 2026 / Volume 13.1
Jose Hernandez Diaz
—
Ode to My Sunglasses
My black sunglasses slid off the TV stand.
They started surfing down the stairs, like a pro.
My dog, Rufio, a former stray mutt, put on the fallen shades,
And instantly looked like a California cliché.
I can’t leave the house without my sunglasses as armor,
Even in the winter, unless it rains, I’m not that weird.
One time I forgot my sunglasses on the drive to work.
I crawled along the 5 freeway, like a sloth: almost lost it.
Do they wear sunglasses in Ohio, New England, Detroit?
I hope not. Sunglasses are a west coast sacred artifact,
Like renaissance art to Italianos. Am I just a typical difficult,
Delicate Californian? I mean I do sometimes wish I was
A method actor, ballerino, mime, barely conscious rock-star.
Sunglasses are my jam, though, my people, my cup of bitter tea
In the evening, cruising on a mellow Sunday.
Don’t judge me or do. Whatever.
Jose Hernandez Diaz is the author of The Lighthouse Tattoo, Bad Mexican, Bad American, Portrait of the Artist as a Brown Man, and the forthcoming Split/Mezcla: New and Selected Poems. A recipient of a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, his work has appeared in Poetry, The Nation, Iowa Review, The Southern Review, Bennington Review, Yale Review, Georgia Review, Missouri Review, The London Magazine, Poetry Wales, Poetry Ireland, and Magma Poetry (UK), among other journals. His poems have been selected for Best American Poetry 2025, Best Microfiction 2026, and Best American Nonrequired Reading. He has served as Poet in Residence at the University of Tennessee and Visiting Assistant Professor at UC Riverside’s MFA Program.
