Eat Rain
We can eat rain
when our teeth fall
out; Mexican
beer from the bar.
The sky will be
the food mart; the
sea as well. We
can eat a tear.
No one will care.
Not Washington,
not the food banks,
and not the clouds.
We can’t eat fire.
New teeth won’t grow.
Ice cubes are
hard. This I know.
I have eaten
up my own sweat,
a pool of tears.
I am human.
I get quite starved.
I love the clouds.
The rain they drop.
I wait under.
And I eat rain,
and I eat rain,
fabulous rain,
clear, falling rain.
About the Author: Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, born in Mexico, lives in Southern California, and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles, CA. His latest poems will appear in Fearless, Former People, Piker Press, Right Hand Pointing, Winamop, and Yellow Mama Magazine.
Also By Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal:
Image Credit: Claude Monet “Belle-Ile, Rain Effect” (1886) public domain
As It Ought To Be 