Fragments of the world keep breaking off,
Like icebergs from a calving glacier,
Some big—the schools, the Dow, the subway—
Others small— the gym, the junk mail—even
Personal—our job, our choir, our book club—
All pieces, equally, dwindling.
Now adrift, we talk across the widening
Water with high-tech semaphore,
Each home an island.
About the Poet
Amalia Gnanadesikan is a linguist by training, a former writing professor,
and the author of The Writing Revolution: Cuneiform to the Internet. She
lives in Severna Park, Maryland, with her husband, three cats, and
numerous miniature pineapple plants.
For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.
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