The Lingering Wound • poems by Simon Anton Niño Diego Baena

After Reading Bei Dao’s Old Snow

I closed the door
of the cabin
behind this mountain stream

Just as the fog recedes

Death blooms
like poppies in summer
on Tiananmen Square

When I fold the edges
of the paper kite, I remember
father gave me a present
of painted stones

One moonlit night before his artery burst