Dreaming of Emily Dickinson
What a dream
it was that done
in silk or organdy
as light as the wind ...
What a shower of poetry
had you to rain,
when you inebriated
in clerical verses ...
when you painted the
soul of the pages in
white and pallor
borrowed from the moon...?
Why didn't you come in
in my world with
the ethereal clothing that
I gave you ...?
Not linen or voile,
but dream silk ...
didn't you realize
who loved you?
oh! I still love you
girl ... how do you
I still love ...!
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