tags: Robin Chapman gregory orr diode
On Reading Gregory Orr
From such heaviness
what could rise? — G. Orr
In the library’s winged-back chair
I have allowed the poems
to fall from my hand
and my eyes to close
and my head to rest
on one winged shoulder.
I have let go his words
that roll away the boulder of years
to show how his child’s hands
held his empty gun and fired,
leaving his brother dead beside the deer.
I have leaned into the rough wool
of sleep to ease such grief,
and startled awake
to the sound of my own weeping.
-Robin Chapman
