Poetry from Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal


Covered with light,

the fish swim to the moon.

They bathe in light,

They slip inside head to tail.

The skies at night

are like the sea and there

is a ship shaped cloud

like a six-stringed guitar.

The mermaids swim

on an invisible

stairway to the sky.

The waves in the sky

are choppier than at sea

level and darkness falls.



Floating in the sky
after several margaritas

I imagine I am flying
with angels.
The moon laughs at me.
I waved my hands
and put the moon
in its place
with my rosy cheeks
and my halo gifted by angels.

Floating in the sky
after several margaritas

I imagine overlooking
vast fields
where men and women toil
to put food on the table.
I come down to earth
and prepare for work.

No more floating
and no more margaritas tomorrow.



The lonely cloud at twilight
does not change form. It
disappears. With my eyes
I cannot see it and it is okay.

The lamp of a moon shines
its light at the lonely cloud
late in the evening and still

the solitary cloud does not

change in form. I go to sleep
and in the morning the cloud
is gone. My eyes search for
it. The cloud disappeared.

It was taken by the wind.

The sky could not harbor it.
My eyes wept in the shining sun.
I was not mourning for the cloud.