August 15, 2023

Empty Pockets

By Simon Anton Niño Diego Baena
Photo by John Capistrano on Pexels.com

My wife informed me that my son had a fever. She was agitated and upset. She stayed in bed beside our child all night with her prayer books and rosary. I never believed in such a fantasy. It is like a house with no roof, a well with no water. No messenger of God ever came down from heaven to stop my father from dying right in front of me—she seemed to think I had been indifferent since the very beginning of our marriage. Perhaps she’s right. I just stood by the window, staring at nothing, with my hands in my empty pockets.

About the Author

Simon Anton Niño Diego BaenaSimon Anton Niño Diego Baena lives in the Philippines with his wife and son. He is the author of three chapbooks, most recently Ritual and Other Poems from Blue Horse Press. His work is forthcoming in Pembroke Magazine, South Dakota Review, Taos Journal of Poetry, The Summerset Review, Osiris, Louisiana Literature, and elsewhere.

Related Flash
crab key ring on table

Things That Are Easy To Lose

By Lisa Alexander Baron

“His questions and routines were now devoid of any impressions, substance, or the least bit of meaningful weight. His every word, every gesture—all too easy to ignore. Like a wet paper towel. A wrapper from a peppermint candy, minus the mint scent.”

Motion blur photo of Saturn's rings

Night at St. Pierre Hospital 2020

By Angeline Schellenberg

“She keeps close to the courtyard window she came through, her ears tuned to nurses’ flats slapping down the hallway. Her brother’s shaky hand reaches across the tray for a water glass.”

an uncapped syringe on teal background

Needle

By Elena Zhang

“Let me tell you about your lao ye, Ayi says. I feel a pressure on my wrist, then a sharp tap as the needle bites into flesh, hovering just above rivers of blood.”

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This