what I will say on the phone
Pandora's Diaries | Poem
autumn moves like an arsonist
through the apartment
its gait is like yours
by the pool,
the moon
burning a soul into your eyes,
indigo limbs restless
and deathly graceful
in the bathroom
you spoke of Woolf,
but I was watching how
you pressed your hands down on the sink
and tiptoed on the brink of suspension
sometimes the group photos at night
and the activists online
forget us
you are holding your life
as a gypsy holds water in her hands.
By Anushka Roy
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