by Juliet Butcher varium et mutabile semper femina (Aeneid IV.569-70) Whistle-wet and wind-whipped and smarting with salt, the air bursts lungs – clean lungs, lungs clear and full – and cuts, slicing quick across face, stinging stiff and garrotte-sharp like the cords of a ship, as she stands on the citadel and watches. Gleaming sky […]
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