Candle

A name gouged in morse code on the door
was all I could manage. My cut-out
tongue, forgetting language.

I understand the empty space
between my gums
is called a vowel.

Buried in me,
the name of my father
like a dormant gene.

The ticket number
of a train through
empty memorylands.

The urge to abandon my body
like a boy in the woods.

To become all-light.

Mouthless as snow,
or the white-hot chest of
a flame, ribcaged with red.

Heart-haunted.

The telegrams flicker
through moth wings.

Xiaole Zhan

Xiaole Zhan is a Chinese-New Zealand writer and composer. Their work explores themes of the body, race, memory, and the intersection between language and music. They are the winner of the 2023 Kill Your Darlings Non-Fiction Prize and the 2023 Landfall Young Writers’ Essay Competition.