Escape Plan

Someone from the realm
of the dead is sending
you an invitation, opening the door
and calling for you, like

a scream in the Gobi. It
smells of withering
gingko leaves, a smell that carries
dopamine, leaving you craving

for more. There is only
one way, you thought,
while stumbling through empty
Maotai bottles and rattling

them against the walls.
A sound made in a grave
but of silk, like the braided stretch
of carpet you’re walking on

robbed from the Eastern
Qing Catacombs by your
grandfather. You open that drawer
and look for the way out.

The way to slip into
an eternal dream
where the sea hangs above
the horizon and the sky

sits below it. And now, you
have two options: take it
fast through the blood or take
it slow through the nose.

You decide to do both.
You want the salty pinch
in the face and that hazy
waltz in the fog at the same

time. Here, you became
Antarctica yearning
for the Northern Star,
or perhaps a raven that forgot

where it built its nest, or you
might just be a piece of black
mint unhinged from the branch,
slipping into the soil.

By Yixuan Wu

Biography:

Yixuan Wu is a Chinese who currently lives in the Philippines. He is a junior attending school in Taguig City and will graduate in the year 2022. When he is not studying mathematics, he is either exploring different genres of music or chatting with his peers.