Rachael de Moravia: The Mutability of Beauty

Illustration (made for the poem) by John Trefry

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I went to New Orleans when I was young.

Spanish moss hung from trees like bodies in the still air.

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I wore white linen because of the heat

and the only time I felt comfortable was at three in the morning.

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Her shoulders were bare, her hips narrow like a boy’s,

her skin pale and soft as moth wings in the monochrome night.

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Avni Nijhawan: I Shall Call Myself Alice

“How can you stick at a game when the rules keep on changing? I shall call myself Alice and play croquet with the flamingos. In Wonderland everyone cheats and love is Wonderful, isn’t it?”

— Jeanette Winterson

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