Reading LateThe Heart wants what it wants— or else it does not care—---—Emily Dickinson
So still. Not a cricket. In this heat
the trees around the house hold motionless
even at midnight. I trundle the electric fan,
little pool of wind, along with me
from room to room, and imagine Emily Dickinson
carrying a candle that defines her sphere
into a part of the house where she won't hear
her sister Vinnie start to snore.
Just now, while you're gone, I wouldn't
have to be reading her,
who closed herself in with her wild need
and the deprivation by which she meant
to know, wholly, her desire. No one ever
will figure out how much it was a wish
for someone in particular—Reverend Wadsworth,
maybe, her deep-voiced "Dusk Gem"—
and how much it was a longing that had no object
but oblivion, which allows no interruption.
Debra Nystrom***************
RL
If you have a request for a certain Poet, post their name in the thread and I will find a poem by them and post it...
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