Your neck twists against the cotton of your pillow. You lie in silence so dark you hear feathers sigh. The air is still and reeks of decay. You’ve been lying here a while, as you have many nights before; the odour has curled through your veins and burned itself into your skin. You’re not wanted elsewhere. Shadows melt your walls, spill across piles of clothing, smother the moon’s glare. They twist in the folds of your curtain, drag them by their skirts; swallow the glimmer of your medals, the shine from your teddy bear’s eyes. They distort the faces in your family portrait, darken the stare of a younger you, who bares her teeth in scorn at the brittle husk of you now. With each whisper of faraway wind, shadows creep closer to your toes.
Annie Zhao
March 06, 2025
I waited for you on the first breaking dawn of spring. I held in my warm breath for fifteen rooster calls When I realized you would not come So weird how just two lifetimes ago We just seeded All the flowers we liked In our garden.
Xinran Wu
October 21, 2024
I know it deep down, Hoarseness As a reason for not to sing Is untenable. So, I pick up the pieces, arise, Raising my arms up high. Everything turns into tears thrown into the gray sea as sky. Not a single tear belongs to me anymore. I smile, The ravines ripple Trying to eliminate the sea. Black for all time Since when floats like eternal daytime on the surface of heart. Just another death. I hear myself Angry to the point of insane Silent lamentation. The sea has no walls. I hear no echo. Plunging, Leaves float back to the branches. Shadows of light lick me An old wound located on the right side of my chest. It's not what I want. But I say to myself enough. Go on. There’re still One thousand and one avalanches And one cicada.
Xinran Wu
October 08, 2024
The forest is a store. Once, I sat in the doorway, Neither haughty nor humble, Waiting for it to welcome me in. Then the night came, And there was no light at the door. I fear the darkness, felt my way into the forest. I stumbled Like a phantom, Wandering in the dark. almost broke my face, already broke my legs. I went on and on. When I was not aware, The sunlight was like a water snake, gently twined the neck of the forest. It’s dawn. Fog walks out of my eyes, Into the world.
Xinran Wu
October 08, 2024
Walk abreast with me. We are like wheatstacks after a snowfall, With two white straw hats Looking into the distance Of the mountains that are about to disappear. If I lower my head, I can see your shadow brushing against my toes. What can I give you in return? I give you, tired but tough， the folds of my body. And clot up a puddle of purple, My heart.
Xinran Wu
October 08, 2024
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