THE WINDOWS AND ROOFS INSIDE THE WORLD
After Paul Klee
Shattered. You try to conceal and avoid the light.
Burying the color beneath Dresden, and the other stains
in Gaza. The wound, wide enough, below the chest.
Time, here, revolves around the well, with the men
and women pushing their wagons full of jars of water
into the smoke. Echoing among the wires, you hear
the bell ringing and toiling, tirelessly, the entire night
like the loud heartbeat of a terrified child. Remember
the Messiah who died on the cross to redeem the world?
The Roman legionnaires have long abandoned the walls.
And you want the fire, to devour the altar. Yes, the city
you painted and left is now burning. A parade of refugees.
Some walk with their heads bowed, like rusty, submerged
anchors. Some walk upright, dreaming of their return.
Simon Anton Diego Baena’s work has appeared in The Cortland Review, The Bitter Oleander, Catamaran Literary Reader, Santa Ana River Review, Cider Press Review, Fifth Wednesday, Chiron Review, Osiris, and elsewhere.