The Lingering Woundpoems by Simon Anton Niño Diego Baena

Honeymoon

My wife snored
loudly: the walls trembled
and stars shuddered
given such distance.

All the guests closed their windows
despite the heat.

I got up,
smoked another cigarette,
and opened the balcony
right before dawn.

The night lingered
like a wound—

Down below
in the surf, Napoleon Bonaparte wept
like a child,
sniffing a rose.
 

 
Copyright 2River. Please do not use or reproduce without permission.