Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal





As I Age

After Paul Eluard

At five
I knew not of tenderness,
I did not cradle,
I tore to shreds as children do.

I cared
to finish first at the kitchen
table for fear
I would be last. Winning was
happiness. Now patience is
my greatest of loves.

As I age
I visit the child of my memories.
Being old
I cannot diminish that child or
the confidence we each lacked.






When I Am Dust

When I am dust my shoulder 
pain will end. The weight 
on each shoulder
will have faded. There will be
flies at my funeral,
large black flies and 
none will not care. My despair-
ing will stop. I won’t
take up much space.
The street where I lived won’t 
miss me. There will be no more 
wandering. All matters 
of the heart will cease.
There will be no more 
dances with hope.

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His work has appeared in Blue Collar Review, Kendra Steiner Editions, Otoliths, Unlikely Stories, and Yellow Mama Magazine.

 
 

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