From A Blade of Grass in Dorianne Laux's, "What's Broken"
By R. Cary
In this garden of time, seen from the images of the poles of the falling beads. The sky’s corners angling for her perception, from this blade of grass. Seminal, arising from south to north, contrasting the delicate starry slated night. East to West, the pattern of Orion and his bull fighting for Bellatrix, Orion’s worn pride, a female of warriors, Castor and Pollux swearing to abide. A motion of movement, history transpiring this sky, as the Poet Dorianne Laux traces our human story from a hand forced from birth. Her own vision shimmering as she reaches up above, falling stars arrive. Her body, her eyes speckled with history. Staring down at her chest, where her stomach rests, her arms extend, movement is now light. Her eyes, sparkling, reaching her fingertips look down, a million miles of light, she can still see that blade of grass, as she rests following Orion’s myth, settling her soul in the western night's edge.
From A Blade of Grass In Dorianne Laux's, "What's Broken"
By R. Cary