Silence Converses Silence converses in the empty room in the dream of the bare cupboard, gifting cups, plates, drinking glasses. It reminds the empty drawers of the day they harbored forks, knives, and spoons. It puzzles over the broken light switch, the hole under the kitchen sink, and the darkest corners of the empty room. Through the open window by the kitchen table silence finds its voice in the barking dogs, the singing birds, the sounds of lawnmowers. It retreats into the bedroom without a bed; the dusty floor coughs up a lung; the darkness sleeps there, trying to mimic the former inhabitants who have found their own silence. Silence makes no more offerings. It broods and sighs. Its voice returns to the open window by the kitchen table, enamored with the blackbirds’ song and converses with its own mad self. Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, born in Mexico, lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His first book of poems, Raw Materials, was published by Pygmy Forest Press. His poetry has been published by Alternating Current Press, Deadbeat Press, New Polish Beat, Poet's Democracy, and Ten Pages Press. His latest chapbook, Make the Light Mine, was published by Kendra Steiner Editions. Comments are closed.
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August 2024
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