YOUTH’S SYMMETRY
A penetrating dream
brought my childhood
to the forefront. The
splendour of summer
warmed my blanket.
On three-year-old legs
I followed a butterfly.
The world was large
in youth’s symmetry.
I did not know why
the air in my dream
blew the butterfly out
of my reach. It blew away
my childhood memories.
Soon I was an old man
in the same dream.
INTO THE LIGHT
One more lonely night.
I stare into the light
until a new day comes.
I stare into the ray
until there is no more
to be seen. The rays of
light make me blind
as time flies by.
NO SUCH SHADOW LIVES HERE
I check on my shadow
daily. I ask it questions,
write it letters so many
times a day. It makes me
sad that it never answers.
It says nothing at all.
My last letter was returned.
No such shadow lives here.
The letter was smudged up.
The letter had its own shadow.
I was of sound of mind when
I wrote it. Now I am not.
I just ramble on like a madman.
I just wrote one little letter
when I was feeling pensive.
If I was a poet, I would travel
to Spain or France, and leave
my shadow behind. I would
walk in foreign streets and
greet the mailman. I would
ask him to bless my feet.
I would have no letter for him.
I would expect no letter in
return. My shadow is dead to
me. We never correspond. I
tried and failed. I gave up. These
days I feel lighter on my feet.
Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, born in Mexico, now lives in California and works in Los Angeles. His poetry has appeared in Blue Collar Review, Borderless Journal, Hobo Camp Review, Mad Swirl, and Unlikely Stories. His poetry book, Peering into the Sun, was published by Poet’s Democracy.
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