Grass Dancer: A Prayer
- Grass Dancer:A Prayer
Prairie open in me
where winter comes too early,freezes grass, freezes leaves,blows away birds, blows across rivers
Prairie open in me
where I’ve been split and unsutured,where I pound, dance, stampuntil dry land explodes into dust
Prairie open in me
where grandfather losthis battle, where he dranka death so hard, sunk darkinto stone, broke into flint,shattered
Prairie open in me
at the edge of shadow and bone,in the final flash and smolderof ash, where some of us walkbackward into the river
Prairie open in me
as water, as laughter,not apt for disasterbut trapped under rib of heart,peeled from throats of birds
Prairie open
at the stoplight, bank line, black jack,Phat Cat video rental, corner locationthe neighborhood kids call Murder Station,smoke break, coffee break, last call,hard cell, dark city, everyday everydayeveryday everyday
[End Page 39]
Crystal S. Gibbins is an assistant professor of writing studies at the University of Minnesota Duluth. She is the author of Sea/Words (2014) and the founding editor of Split Rock Review. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Hayden’s Ferry Review, Prairie Schooner, H_NGM_N, Free Verse, and Poetry City.
