“Look,” Layli Long Soldier commands us in the title of one of her poems in her book “Whereas.” When we follow her instructions, we see “the light/grass/body/whole/wholly moves,” and so on. This poem — with lines mostly consisting of one or two words and immense amounts of space between each line, while spanning over three pages — is jagged when I read it. I find myself stumbling over each line, unable to put together the image without extreme focus. I end up staring at these otherwise familiar words until they make sense. “Look,” Long Soldier commands. “I’m trying,” I gasp. “Really, really hard.”