Wearing her black veil, grandma used to scare us
with horror stories. I kept an eye on her mouth
as she spoke about the witches’ Sabbath.
She wanted us to sleep early, and she believed
only her terrifying tales would do that.
One night as I was praying, I heard
noises outside the house; long, slimy fingers
were attempting to break in. I awoke
to find broken tree branches
scattered on my bedroom floor.
Richard Wagner’s Dream
In my nightmare, he spoke to me about it.
He claimed to have seen hares
emerge from a burning cathedral.
He described to me the frozen expressions
of those revolutionaries who had died
in the snow on their way to Moscow.
Additionally, the horse was in bad shape
and muttering like Nietzsche
when the whip arrived.
Simon Anton Niño Diego Baena is the author of The Magnum Opus Persists in the Evening (Jacar Press) and The Lingering Wound (2River). His work is forthcoming in Apalachee Review, The Columbia Review, South Dakota Review, and elsewhere.