hands by Carmen H Gray
the ice was crisp and forming
on the leaves of my plants
i had tended
i knew each leaf, each flower
i could almost feel their cells,
filling with tiny shards of ice
cutting them open and destroying plant tissue
which made me grieve their deaths
but it wasn’t until i saw that man
on the side of the road
whose delicate cells were simultaneously dying
that my heart leapt outside of my chest
on this icy day
in this tale of two cities
brimming with the new Elon Musks
and the homeless, what a juxtaposition
the last part of his body i noticed
were his hands
which could have belonged to any one of us, really
Monarca Rising 