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By Eduardo Martinez-Leyva
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Audio Poem of the Day — Portrait of a Boy on the Other Side. Machine-transcribed; use the interactive transcript above to jump the player to any line.
Hello, my name is Eduardo Martinez Leyva and I'm recording from Queens, New York. This is my poem, Portrait of a Boy on the other side of a glory hole. Most wounds are circles, so it's no surprise you'll find me here, alone, on my knees, on evenings when the moon hangs low. The brown boy, behind the hole, not quite the size of a cave or a cigarette burn, splitting open my lips the way a saint parts his mouth to banish thirst, or famine, or to greet his flock. I have stories and sadness to share, known men who moan like injured dogs, others like horses off to the glue factory. Their dignified shape reduced by the deep vermilion of my rim. I used to be scared. Eyes locked to the heavens, my trembling voice wrapped around their heart ons.
They only feel me through the hollow space they briefly occupy. I am all mouth, cavities and throat, obedient, never see, never touch. Some call for Jesus as if that were my name. I have lost so much around here.
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