Frozen Through

by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

The air conditioner 

soothes her with

screaming wind.

It makes her cry.

Her frozen hand,

it is frozen through.

The tree outside

sings a goodbye song.

Her eyes sting.

She looks up.

In her dream her eyes

are frozen through.

Her eyes are closed.

She is cold inside.

A violin is playing

the air conditioner song.

My time is coming.

I will take my leave.

I feel so cold.

I will run away.

My eyes are closed.

The air sings.

It has come for me,

just for me.

It comes and comes.

My heart is cold.

The air sings.

I want to run away.

I am just like her

and she is just like me.

Our arms are frozen through.

The air conditioner 

has come for her.

It comes for her

with its cold song.

The tree outside is frozen through.

Luis lives in California and works in Los Angeles. His poetry, art, and photography has appeared in Black Petals, Blue Collar Review, Kendra Steiner Editions, Medusa's Kitchen, Rogue Wolf Press, Venus in Scorpio Poetry Journal, and Yellow Mama Webzine.