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Enya Fang’s writing has received national accolades from CBC Books, A&E Network, and the Royal Canadian Legion. She has been published in multiple print and digital anthologies, most recently Lonely Planet (Polar Expressions 2023). Having previously lived in China and Singapore, she now attends high school in Vancouver, Canada. Find her on Instagram at @enyaaa.f


Moonrise shudders in black sea, smoothed by tides that grease your feet. A shrine. On the shoreline, wind slaps sand on your cheeks & rakes salt-soaked air. Come closer,

it croons & phantasm makes you submissive. Wading deeper, water tugging at your limbs, marionette. Laughter behind the fog. Closer. You grasp for the moon but

it slips away like brine & the string that holds you snaps. Above, the gods sip on nectar as you plunge into seething foam. Again, they cast the line. Again, you teeth the bait.


this wasteland grows flowers without threats

until day fades to dusk & your hyacinths are

bombs with roots & roses bleed buried loves &

tulips shed your mother’s smile & dandelions

cast seeds like cursed coins into wishing wells.


willow bends with emotion

moon crinkles like origami

rain drives glass needles

sky yawns yesterday’s song


Night smothers the city, settling

like dead leaves. Loud but colorless.

Whiplashed faces stare down the

winter, shawled by smoke & white

fog. We will not be tamed. Outside,

carried by the sawdust wind, a lone

nightingale keens for home. It bleeds

through the cookie-cutter fences &

scratches at our windows, as if to say

we already know this cage by touch


taught me to swallow ice & spit

out blood & let their guttural vices

claw my throat as if the night-fabric

could stitch our half-human cries

into a body meant for this world.


are not transparent but

solid cargoes

of regret. They are splintered

fatherly bonds

flowers that wilt when the rain

picks favorites

& dull knives wrenched into

calloused hearts.

They roam graveyards for

ruined things

littering the chilly circle of

dead tombstones

chained to moonlight. Like

price tags

you never could throw away.


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