Hollow City

The sound of the braided waterway gutted
the silence as if someone was fiddling
with a güiro, a sound that rasped against
the night sky.
The northern snow-capped Yulong Mountain tells
the story of the lonely traveler lost on its peak, perhaps that’s
where I should call home; only there
will I understand the scarcity of warmth.
The altitude might stiffen the air, but
I know that it can’t be more
than how it feels when
Shuhe Town holds me, as if I’m the only
drop of diamond filtered out of a city-sized ore,
letting all other people drain out
of the town’s hunger. Why me alone?
A gale gave an answer by
casting a rain of cherry blossoms
each of which striving to flutter, but only
to be scattered on the ground like chunks of
human skin. All dyed with red, some lighter,
some soaked. Sometimes it’s not a matter of trying.
I walk through the moss carpeted pathway
only to find myself at the dead ends of Hutong
Alleyways, with weeds sticking out
from narrow rock openings and jagged
tiles lacing on top of one another.
I always ended up alone,
although at first there is always
a couple at the end of each alleyway
and I somehow arrive just on time to watch
the pair of Yuanyang
morph into silhouettes.

By Yixuan Wu

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.