Thursday, January 27, 2022

For Emily Dickinson, 2

perhaps she raised her small jeweled flags of words

in a stiff breeze so that the bees and flowers were confused at first

and the red clover

in the vast meadows she lived in, meaning her soul.

and the stars over New England sighed on being told

by distaff cherubs

she is beyond you now.

as for men on earth, who knew that she was scarcely here

an inhabitant at all

except as a gentle anomalie and almost as out of sight

as the ends of being barrett browning might have said.

if she could have,

now her self sown flags are planted in eternity and they stream on

transmogrified not a little

and sometimes in our minds while reading her

we almost hear, we think her sherry voice and clear and

a stiff breeze enters our room

and we who have not yet died

neither for truth nor beauty yet adjusted in our tombs

can still aver and aver with her 

toward which path for us, as well

the implacable mystic horses heads are turned.

mary angela douglas 28 january 2022



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