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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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