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El día de San Ciriaco
8 de agosto 1899
“¡Auxilio!”
She was the reason I’d sailed sixteen hundred miles to get here,
a promise she’d pressed out of me on her deathbed.
Or did the gombeens in Ornamental waste ’emselves
malcriado
flaquito
“One day, you’ll get that smart mouth o’ yours caught in the forge, Mr. Walsh,”
“Aye, if it’s so much fun, I bet Wheezy’ll do it.
Just to be clear, my name’s Benny, not Wheezy—a nickname Farty invented
first being the busted lungs God saw f...
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taking smaller sips of air to ward off the whistle rising in my chest.
If I started coughing, I’d never stop,
cabello
if you had a brain full of noise like mine.
“‘Asset needed before next’—”
“‘Full moon’?”
“You know I had my reservations four years ago, hiring a kid who didn’t speak a lick o’ English,”
“But you’ve always had a surprising aptitude for metalwork.
What McCoy called “aptitude” was what got my coworkers resenting me in the first place.
lambón
Farty Walsh was always a bigger hazard when he wasn’t smiling.
the dots of blood that started showing up on my handkerchief when I coughed.
Gowanus Canal looked like spilled wood stain and stank of piss and horseshit.
This threadbare dandy commissioned the tank?
He looked like an avocado stuck in a bird’s nest
The tank was headed to a sideshow.
and our eyes blinked wide as a Black man made entirely of muscles swung out onto the gravel with a hefty thud.
“Strongest man in the world, weak against a little chill,” Mr. Morgan muttered
pelirroja
“el pez muere por la boca,”
“Why are you helpin’ me?” I mumbled.
“Welp, you’re a lad in your twenties with no family,”
Paddy McCoy had me beat with his impersonation of a beneficent boss who regretted firing his best smithy.
“It didn’t take a scholar to figure out your foreman wasn’t the craftsman
jitney
sinvergüenza