The Lingering Wound • poems by Simon Anton Niño Diego Baena

When Paris Flickered Right Across the Street

I followed the white dog
as I emptied myself

of pubs, I visited
the graves of my ancestors:

Baudelaire   Vallejo   Cioran

at dawn
with the shadow

behind me
the church bell bellowed

like a cow
being slaughtered

the fluffy white mutt peed
on the dark side

of the wall
and these staggering ruins

of Europe
I moved into

avoiding any messiah