Glacial Melt

Sara J. Grossman

Be still. There is no

more bounty.

             Once, the last

ice sheet on the pond

melted, the tree branch

fell through. Will it

             be like that?

No one told us

to get out

of here.

             Everything

told us to get out of here.

What is given

can also

             be taken away.

Think about the sunken

swimming pools, the malls ––

The world was

             a stereoscopic

kind of love, the kind

that leaves you

all gone up.

             Feldspar is a place

at the end of the road;

bedrock is all

old glory.

             You should

touch it.

The weather was just

an idea

             anyway,

so were

the glaciers.

Once, there was

             a pond.

Will it be like that?

 

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