Shirley Xu

brush 

half transparent wash, a hot summer 
day in florida. 

layered splashes, pools like shallow 
puddles under overcast fog. 

melancholy skies, cumulonimbus rising
through another coating, leaving the page to dry. 

light passing through stained glass, dripping
coffee through the filter. 

ice cubes melting on the table 
an open cup, open 
for you. 

Photography: Haiku 

> “Composition” 
Firm, align your gaze. 
Close your eyes and see true now. 
My photographer. 

> “Shutter” 
Flash. Flickering life. 
Take the shot, fluttering eye. 
Here, the photograph. 

> “Edit” 
Amplify vignette. 
Grayscale winter, a snowflake. 
My finishing touch. 

> “Seeing in Color” 
Blue ribbon, best prize. 
I’m your Golden Ratio. 
Take another shot. 

> “Memory”
Alaskan brown bears. 
Apple Fries in Legoland. 
Death Valley sunrise. 

this is how it feels to think of you anna 

the boats 
on the harborann
arbor sail away on wind drift
laborious deed but 
i believe you 
can and you will 
your will yes 
your will because 
you’re dead 
so stay on 
the balcony 
an alcony 
alcor 
ursa an attic with too many 
stars too many 
bugs too many 
bees 
my knees 
with the beestoo loud 
to stop 
the buzzing 
of the bees 
humming like you did 
but i keep forgetting 
you’re dead 
stop 
humming 
stop 
buzzing 
quiet 
for one 
moment so 
i can think 
of the muzzling and 
the nuzzling of our 
dog on
the floor and he is 
heaving 
puffing 
air from his 
nose a great 
dane 
a dune 
sand blowing 
off peaks and 
packs of 
great danes on 
great dunes are 
running 
away 
and i'll say 
come back you but 
no 
you’re dead 
don’t
come back
back 
track 
come back 
to me. 

bird 

quills of words sharp 
as shrapnel— 

a wing against the page 
as you pick your words carefully— 

like molting feathers anew 
the ink flows from 
the sea— 

freed from the human hand 
tendrils rise to the talon 
of the little bird flying away—

WHAT THE GRIEF BLEW IN 

↬ HOLLOW NAUTILUS 

With the wind comes the diluted 
dissonance, 
disturbed depths 
undulation of divided damage. 

↬ WEAPON OF CHOICE 

Fan-shaped leaves rippling 
like ocean tides snailing 
along. Daggers 
spearing the sunbaked dirt like 
shooting 

stars. 

Bunting blows 
bashing out 
your breath, 
bleak borrasca
Backfist punches 
breaking breaths from 
the body. 

It roars swaths of tightly twisting tops. 

↬ WITCHING HOUR 

Stars smeared 
sight unclear 
Secrets stolen 
shining golden 

↬ GASLAMP QUARTER 

Streaking past humming orbs of light
tucked into 
the bitter evening and the moon. 
Leaving the windows down. 
The cold under you
grasping everything you have to offer.
Sitting there, 
whipped by the wind. 
The gaslamp 
flickers. 

↬ TRANSIT 

Chimes. Chilly cabins. Concave cracks
in the concrete. And 
crater-like caves. 
Updraft patches of whistling air
in tiny hollow porous 
pockets. Breath, 
balmy brightness, breeze. Tufts
of cotton candy. 
How far will the wind take them?

About the Author: Shirley Xu is a current high school senior at The Bishop's School in La Jolla, California. She particularly enjoys writing poems and experimenting with form. In the summer of 2021 and 2022, she attended the Kenyon Young Writers Workshop. Shirley has also won Gold and Silver Keys from the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards.