Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 27, 2026

My Body

"...An aching heart is sure to come..."

My Body

I don’t recognize my body.
Are my eyes deceiving me?
I am sure clogged arteries
and chest pain are not far
behind. An aching heart is
sure to come. A throat that
can’t speak of the agony
I feel, is sure to be silenced.
I am losing my hair. This is
no secret. My bald spot has
the moon’s reflection for all
to see. I walk so slow. It is
so sad to watch my own steps.
I love you despite all I have said.







More by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal → More poetry → Full issue →
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