Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal- A Poem

DEAD CHICKENS

The dead chickens spoke to me.
They said I should turn on the fryer
and put them in. I don’t know
why they chose me. I was just
sleeping on the parking lot
of the local chicken joint.
It was cold, raining, and late at
night. I tried the front door,
but the place was closed. I broke
the window with a brick. I was
able to turn on the fryer and toss
in the loudest chickens before
the police came. I was taken to
the emergency room for hearing
voices. Perhaps this is the best
thing. I don’t like being homeless
and dirty. People don’t treat you
well when you don’t have a place
to live. I felt like killing myself
so many times. I sat on bridges
thinking I should jump. But I
don’t like pain. I heard the dead
chickens screaming when I put
them in the fryer. I was their
executioner. It made me feel bad.


Bio: Luis was born in Mexico, lives in California, and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles, CA.
His latest chapbook, Digging A Grave, is available from Kendra Steiner Editions. His first poetry book, Raw Materials, was published by Pygmy Forest Press.