The red shred of linen cuts

Mountains into halves and

Dyes the sand crimson black,

Burning holes into copper chests.

Brackish wind, no, waves.


Tides can’t decide. They

Run away only to come back.

Dry water shimmery reflects

Bulging eyes, singed black.

Roasting jellyfishes. Die.


The air tight, sand collapse.

Suffocating reds don’t do

Bottled messages, leaving

Crumbling bones, their

Tongueless cries.


Anny Fang


Anny Fang is a sophomore majoring in Psychology, English, and Women’s Studies. Contrary to her appearance, she likes to pursue hobbies that can only be categorized as extreme. This usually means that you may either see her chewing some book in an obscure coffee shop or bungee-jumping in a third-world country.

Listed at Duotrope
Listed with Poets & Writers
CLMP Member
List with Art Deadline
Follow us on MagCloud