Dark Within the Window by Yixuan Wu (17, Philippines)

It was the air that blanketed over 
me that reminded me of geometry,
carving me into terracotta, 
I discovered my new talent for withstanding the
clashing of dynasties, then 
forsaken in the tombs.

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I started to love watching the abstractness
of how snow coagulates the feral outside
into blank slate, much more than
the art of the sleight of mouth, no
matter how many other wilted leaves it's kissed.

And yes, I have learned to mime, just
all I can do with a gashed throat. 
I’ve become so good since that time
when you forgot to look behind,
turning the corner at Qianmen.
Please, I’m not almighty.

The crackle of fire becomes the heartbeat
of the night as I painted myself into a
murder of crows, capable of inking up 
the desert-charred sunset of the day,
when our lips last parted.