Poetry

Midautumn

By morning the lanterns hung sobbing, their colours puddling like dew in the carpet grass, the fresh breeze rattled their wood. One or two had burnt up, left metal racks behind. The frangipani lifts its Read more…

By judithhuang, ago
Poetry

Rokujō

I can imagine the look on her face now filled with fright as something clutches her from somewhere out of nowhere, catching in her throat, just as you enter her, the look on your face Read more…

By judithhuang, ago