Bailey Cohen is a queer Ecuadorian-American poet studying at NYU. The founder of Alegrarse, the Associate Editor for Frontier Poetry, and a Best of the Net nominee, his work appears in or is forthcoming from publications such as Boulevard, Raleigh Review, [PANK], Up the Staircase Quarterly, Boiler Journal, and elsewhere. Bailey can be found across most social media platforms @BaileyC213. He loves everyone Latinx.





Previously in Glass: A Journal of Poetry: Self-Portrait as Yurico Floating in Space or en Río San Pedro


Bailey Cohen

Self-Portrait as Yurico Atop a Freight Train

Dull & unresponsive, las estrellas no pueden darme nada. Mama always said you gotta light your own battles, so I did. I have packed all of her necklaces. In sunlight, you can see the rust, & how beautiful it is, to see the bronzing of once gold skin. Like my mother, I used to be so beautiful. Now, I smoke just to hear the rattle. I breathe just to feel the smoke. Imagine having el mismo nariz as my father. Imagine being able to recognize la cara of my father. If I knew such a thing as a gentle man, I am sure that is what I would want to be. Mi madre dice que si el papa believes in God, el niño will believe in the father. Like a God, I trace gold chains in the sky. Like a God, I leave & then come back. And she’s right, too! because how you gonna believe in God when your own father’s been a myth? On nights like tonight, Ma, the sky looks so black.




Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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