Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

HAVING HIS BABY

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

A cop broke

into my home

and beat me.

He sexed me

up and now I’m

having his

baby. The

cop denied it.

He’s hiding

behind his

badge. But he is

a fat pig

and I will

report him to

the city.

I wonder

if my baby

will grow up

to be a

cop. Perhaps he

could fix all

my parking

tickets. I have

so many.

WANDERING WOLF

By Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

No one saw him
in the neighborhood
before. He looked
lost and hungry.

People would bring
him food hoping
he would leave town,
go on his way.

The homeless man
would not leave. He
would come back for
more food. Just like

a coyote,
bringing him food
was not a good
idea. He

would return to
the people who
brought him food. He
would look through their

windows and their
garbage cans. He
would howl like a
wolf. Finally,

the cops were called.
The homeless man
could not provide
his name, address,

or who was his
family. There
was a mad look
in his eye. He

said his name was
wandering wolf,
howling at the
cops and neighbors.

Get the Tooth Fairy Over Here

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

I’m going to burn

this motherfucker down.

My tooth is killing

the shit out of me doctor.

Get the tooth fairy

over here so I could kick

his lily ass. He

better leave me a million

dollars worth of quarters

under my pillow.

Get Doctor Giggles in here

to put me out of my misery.

I could use a few blunts.

I want to smoke this

pain away. The meds

the dentist gave me are

not doing anything

to soothe my pain.

I don’t have somatic

delusions. The fucking

tooth pain is real.

Shoot me full of h

and end me. I don’t

want to live anymore.

Stabbed

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Was she stabbed

or did she

stab herself?

She won’t say.

She’s guarded

that way. She

loves to seek

attention.

She wants to

be the one

that’s always

talked about.

She said she

would like to

be a rock

star. In fact

she said she

was one. But

no one has

ever heard

her sing or

play guitar.

She bangs on

doors pretty

good. Perhaps

she is a

drummer or

hard playing

piano

player. Her

stab wounds were

not too deep.

There was not

too much blood.

Perhaps she

doesn’t bleed.

She might be

an alien.

I Got Sick

by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

If I had

been able

to apply

myself in

school, I would

have done much

better. I

would have worked.

But it’s not

my fault that

I got sick.

Voices came

into my

head. They have

been with me

all my life.

I should not

have gotten

married. It

didn’t work out.

I have not

seen my kids

in years. They

must be so

old now. I

don’t like these

voices. They

keep getting

worse. Lately,

they want me

to jump in

traffic or

overdose

on my pills.

Now what can

you do for

me? Are you

my saviour?

Very Good

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

I feel very good.

I had crack cocaine

a year ago.

But I have quit. No

more crack, no more

crystal meth, no

more marijuana.

Sometimes when I speak

I hear the voices

telling me to

smoke. The voice sounds

like my doctor’s

voice. It can’t be true.

I don’t know why I

was brought to this place.

They said I was

thinking I was God.

I only said

I played basketball like Him.

PAULINE AND PAUL

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

“You won’t even be around,” laughed Pauline. “I don’t even know what I saw in you,” she told her husband. Pauline told Paul, “Look at you. You’re as small as a mouse. I’m going to exterminate you one day.” At night Pauline would leave the gas pilot on the stove when she thought Paul was asleep. Paul would turn it off, always on the alert for what his sick wife would do. He would crush her psych pills into her cereal or juice. Pauline always made faces when she ate her cereal or drank juice, even when Paul did not crush her pills in them.

Pauline was paranoid. She was twenty years younger than Paul. His health was failing. She was dead right about him not being around for long. Paul loved his wife and Pauline loved him back, only she wanted him dead when she had psychotic breaks. Pauline would tell Paul, “Here’s some cheese for you. You little mouse; I could crush you in my hand if I wanted to.”

One night Paul did not wake up. It was not the gas pilot stove being left on all night that did it. It was heart disease that did it. Pauline shook her husband all night and for another seven nights. She cried, “My little mouse is dead.”

In the Garden I Buried Her

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

In the garden I buried her.
She was so lovely.
Dewdrops or rain won’t touch her.
She lived a good life.

The bitch is deep down in the earth.
Her bark was worse than
her bite. I buried rose petals with
her. I’m so sad she died.

Some nights I hear her bark from the
grave. In the late hours
I see her shadow in the shade.

My heart skips a beat.

They Want to Kill Me

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

I am not getting into that bed.

My mother died in that bed.
I was raped in that bed last night.

The ninety-year old woman prefers
to sit on the floor. She feels
she will be killed or sexually

assaulted if she gets into bed

She stopped eating because she
feels her food is poisoned or spoiled.

They are feeding me rotten rodent

meat and give me arsenic-

laced drinks. They want to kill me. I

am afraid because they want to take
my blood. They want me dead. I
am not going to eat a thing.

The ninety-year old woman asks me
for a soda and two bags
of potato chips. She said to go

to the vending machines on the first
floor. She said not to let the
nursing staff know about this. They

will poison my food. You need to
believe me. I don’t want to
die. Don’t let them take my baby.

So Quietly

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Every night the moon takes off its clothes.

Sweet Jane sits by the fire and like the

moon she is exposed. The little stars

twinkle. The bleeding heart belongs to

Rose, a dark purple bruise in her eyes,

the wall rearranged her pretty nose.

Angel never looked so beautiful,

tattoos of butterflies on her back.

One night the wings were cut and she died.

So quietly the moon flashed its lights.

Gone is the innocence of past days.

So quietly Sweet Jane falls apart.

Young Rose stands in the rain dressed for work.

But nobody is out tonight.   The

life Rose leads was not her dream.   Somehow

that dream took a trip up to the moon.

Lovely Angel led a quiet life,

resembling that of a saint.   But lives

go changing in hard times and quiet

lives end up in dark rooms, alley ways,

as moonlight burns malevolently.

In Her Shoes

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

In her shoes

are the stains of life.

In the streets

she soaks up humanity

in violent bursts.

In her heart

ordinary light is

dark and gray.

Spring is winter

and sleep is short.

Every road

is empty. Everything

is empty. The grass

is yellow everywhere.

The sun burns stronger.

No one is trustworthy.

Clocks make her sad.

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal works in the mental health field, writes poetry and short stories. He lives in Los Angeles County. His latest chapbook, Overcome, was published by Kendra Steiner Editions, and it is a collaborative effort with photographer Cynthia Etheridge.

Sometime this fall, his chapbook, The Book of Absurd Dreams, will be published by New Polish Beat. In 2010, his chapbook, Words Make No Sense, will be published by Epic Rites Press. In 2010, Kendra Steiner Editions, will publish another chapbook of his, which is untitled at this time.