Poetry

Untitled 1

Spoken by: Shay Neary by: Carlos Cesar Valle
There is a strange and long skin which likens my weenie to a very erotic fish kiss, or the drawing of a chicken…

Poem by Carlos César Valle - teo@citizenbrooklyn.com Photos and video by Icarus Blake

Untitled 1 – Shay Neary from Citizen Brooklyn on Vimeo.

César
Come here, the boy is sitting down.

Look
(My mother holds me by the shoulder. I frown and I clench my teeth,
And bare-assed
I try to release myself from such an uncomfortable position)

You teach him. He looks at me too much, as you see.
(and she lets me go
And I sit down. I look up: The light-bulb
Counts its last flickers, with that crazy
and embracing zigzag
between both antennas. I don’t see faces. The white tiles
are an orgy of shadows. My mother
looks at herself in the mirror
right before she leaves. She doesn’t close the door.)

Let’s see, look, not that way, this way. Stand up.
(My father shows me his hard penis. He pees.
The toilet gets splashed everywhere)

Now it’s your turn.
(Something gets lost in my right hand. There is a strange and long skin
Which likens my weenie to a very erotic fish kiss,
Or the drawing of a chicken
That we normally
Make at school.

My aim is bad. I try again. Dead center.
Nothing splashes.

I’m useless)

Very good. This is how you must do it from now on. We
Are not mom.

(I leave without saying a word. My parents smile.)

(Translated by David Fernández Patiño, José Tavarez, Andrea Moreno and Carlos César Valle)

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