Monsoon
Simon Anton Niño Diego Baena 



The drizzle is meant to stay
for a while. My breath is heavier.

The stillness is gutted
again. The vista bleats. 

Here I imagine
myself out there

walking in the rain.
With a black umbrella,
 
of course. Intoxicated
with grief. With loss.

Smoking cigarette
after cigarette, a scarecrow

that is ever morose, as
the entire city heaves
 
like a graveyard.  
In the open— the fog

reminds me of a wound,
how many times has she said

this before. An overcast sky.
For months: clouds are heavy

with uncertainty, I'm sure
of that—you ask the ravens,

the cicadas, the blown out
leaves, which only rustle

against the wind when it speaks,
if you don't believe me.

 

About the author:
Simon Anton Niño Diego Baena currently lives in the Philippines. He spends most of his time on the road with his wife, Xandy. Some of his works have already been published in The James Franco Review, The Bitter Oleander, After the Pause and its forthcoming Anthology, The Blue Hour Magazine, Mascara Literary Review, Shot Glass Journal, Off the Coast, Red River Review, Eastlit, The East Bay Review, Philippines Free Press, and Philippines Graphic Magazine.