and where do you start
with the pieces?
Here, the crows lift
into the firmament
that is luminous still,
early in the evening.
The antlers are heavy.
The stillness is
woven with grief
in your recollection of sins;
no memory
of what the light was
before the rain-
soaked funerals. So sit,
count the skulls
lost. Be contented with
what is left of those trees.
The frame stays
empty ever since
they left
you in that somnolent
morning in the park—
the hail is falling
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 19, Issue 3.
Simon Anton Niño Diego Baena spends most of his time on the road with his wife Xandy. His poems have been published in Osiris, The Bitter Oleander, Catamaran Literary Reader, BlazeVOX, Rust+Moth, Indefinite Space, Into The Void, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, UCity Review, and many more.
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