Four Poems by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

 

Make the Day Grey

 

I am waiting on the cloud

to make the day grey as I

read Baudelaire, so bored

with the brilliant sunlight.

 

I am waiting on the cloud

to make the day grey. Here

on the ground I wait for rain.

I have no wings to greet it

 

from close up. If I did, I would

fly into it, poke at its belly,

get that rain to kick up a storm,

because this drought has gone

 

on for too long. I am waiting

on a cloud to bring a stormy

day to our lives that have

become too accustomed to

 

sunny and clear days. I am 

waiting on a cloud to make

the day grey. Baudelaire, in

his grave, would agree with me.

 

 

Throw a Stone

 

After Paul Eluard

 

Speaking in tongues,

I laugh to myself,

one sun becomes two suns,

and the day becomes so bright.

I conjure sleep

without closing my eyes.

 

I throw a stone at the sky.

I just need some shade.

My hand has no strength.

The stone comes back

and hits me in my eye.

My eye and eyelids cannot stand the pain.

 

 

Unintended Stain

 

The flesh of the sky

bleeds into darkness

on my drive home.

 

A patch of clouds

remain billowing

in twilight as if

 

white out has spilled

into a black canvas,

an unintended stain.

 

Are there angels in

the sky one cannot

see, guiding us home?

 

And who can you blame

for those who do not

make it home? Are there

 

devils or gremlins,

tinkering with cars 

on the winding road?

 

 

Looking and Looking 

 

Trying to find a spark

to set the page on fire.

Why is it so elusive?

Where does the flame hide?

My heart burns and

my mind never rests.

 

This longing persists.

I am looking and looking

for some secret. I am

I am ever failing

with eyes cast down.

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal - Born in Mexico, Luis lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Ángeles. His poetry has appeared in print and online in Blue Collar Review, Escape Into Life, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Mad Swirl, and Unlikely Stories.