Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal





Make it Vanish

Alone and November remains
in the mirror this December.
Lost and the word vanish fills
my voice but I keep a lid on it.
There is fear in my eyes.
She would know if she were
here. My one and only is gone.
I wish I was younger and
wish this was the afternoon.
I want to get through the day.
I feel like an endangered species.
I walk in a forest in flames.
I talk myself out of this mood.
Alone but not lonely just yet.
Everything will be alright.
I point my finger at the sun.
It is getting late as it goes down.
The day is half-decaying.
I walk into a better mood
out of need. I return to life
and into the pouring rain.
I smile at my belly fat knowing
it will take a lot more walking
to make it vanish, to lose enough
of it for her to notice the change
if she ever returns one fine day.

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal lives in California and works in Los Angeles. His poems have appeared in Blue Collar Review, Mad Swirl, Otoliths, Unlikely Stories, and ZYX.

 
 

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