melody pond
Sharing Poetry: Margaret Atwood, "Girl Without Hands"
Walking through the ruins
on your way to work
that do not look like ruins
with the sun pouring over
the seen world
like hail or melted
silver, that bright
and magnificent, each leaf
and stone quickened and specific in it,
and you can’t hold it,
you can’t hold any of it. Distance…
matt, alex, karen, & arthur
