The Skywalkers
The skywalkers look down.
The fall does not enter their minds.
If at any time it does,
the spaceship beams them home.
They have nerves of steel.
They do not need a high wire
and do not respond to applause.
There is no need for scaffolding.
Space is all they need,
just a little bit of space.
The skywalkers go where
no man goes, except to the moon.
They are through with the moon
as they seek new challenges
and new adventures.
They like walking on clouds.
They take a dive in
believing it’s a swimming pool
in the sky
that was made just for them.
Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
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.
Tags:
Poetry