Cowboy Park

“There are fevers you still wish to forget,” writes Eduardo Martínez-Leyva, but how fortunate for the rest of us that he remembers. These tenderly crafted autobiographical poems pierce through to the heart of pain, love, loss, and the ongoing search for salvation—or at least a salve.

“There are fevers you still wish to forget,” writes Eduardo MartÍnez-Leyva, but how fortunate for the rest of us that he remembers. These tenderly crafted autobiographical poems pierce through to the heart of pain, love, loss, and the ongoing search for salvation—or at least a salve. Housed in the lived experiences of a queer Latinx person born and raised in the border town of El Paso, Cowboy Park seamlessly blends themes of masculinity, identity, and the immigrant experience, offering a new perspective on the iconic image of the cowboy and a deeper understanding of the complexities of human experience. 

The detainment and deportation of MartÍnez-Leyva’s brother grounds this exquisite collection in the all-too-common familial tragedy of political violence and discrimination. MartÍnez-Leyva honors the people, language, culture, and traditions that shaped him, revealing the indignations, large and small, experienced by a community that is too often misrepresented and maligned. “My voice was the only thing keeping us warm,” he writes, and the warmth from this striking debut collection is beautiful to behold.
“In Spanish, the act of coring an apple
is called ‘descorazonar,’ to dishearten.

All these years, I've kept my hands away
from everyone’s heart, including my own.

I’d always love the things that bruised so easily.”

—Excerpt from “Scenes from the Bone Orchard”