three poems, by luis cuauhtemoc berriozabal

sleeping woman

The sleeping woman
dreams of space
to David Bowie’s
long lost soundtrack.
A swarm of spiders
settle in as
Major Tom’s changing
light bulbs on the moon.
Perfectly calm,
she lies in a trance
as spiders from Mars
make webs on her brow.
Changes plays on
throughout the dream
until the woman
snores and a new song
comes on. On her head
Ziggy Stardust plays
guitar; her sleep
too tight to feel it.
She hears a crowd roar
as each song ends.
She walks in twilight
and spits in a
fools’ eye; a pile of
dung who made her sad.
She grows fond of
her spaced-out dream.
She dreams in color
in a black and white dress.
There is no sun
in her life on Mars.
Still, she seeks beauty
in her darkest thoughts.
She dances by
the light of the moon.
She resembles
a moon-peddler, a
saleswoman dressed
in a long black veil.
She’s a pretty one
when she is dreaming.
She’s a pretty one
when she is awake.
Someone calls her
Lady Stardust as
the dream ends and
the lights blind her.

sleeping and dreaming

Sleeping on
a pile of
trash. Dreaming
of a clean
bed, clean sheets,
and a soft
pillow to
rest my head.

Sleeping with
maggots and
lice, crawling
all over
my body.
Dreaming of
better days,
the stench gone.

There is clean
water to
drink, fresh food
to eat. There
is nothing
like dreams to
escape this
troubled life.


waiting for night to come

Ensconced in his home,
the sunshine never
shines on the old man.
Sick of everything, he
watches the years go by.
They go by too slow.

Flies rarely come in.
He does not like them.
The old man sits all
day long at the edge of
his bed, picking his teeth
waiting for night to come.

He misses his dogs, who
once prowled the streets like
him, when he had
reasons to live. His woman
is gone too, like his dogs,
never to return.

He remembers when
sunshine tapped at his
door. The old man
would let it in. These are
the dark days. The light
of his life is gone.

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