Eye, shielded by twin mirrors,
sees anyway, great slabs tremble,
crack and crumble,
gold splintering on iron, hard rock
street rock blaring on glinting gore--
blind entrails spread out, surrendered.
Eye, having once known mercy,
call down blessing.
Machine, grind bone
for sifting in softer wind,
twentieth century afoot in great cities,
this hollowed shard cups the sky and waits.
Green Heart, go silent,
new rains drumming.
--Barbara Smith Stoff