Friday, April 30, 2010

A conversation with Emily Dickinson

This is a recent poem that ties together a few of the things that have been swirling round my head and this blog in recent months - Sehnsucht/longing, eschatology and Emily Dickinson.

A conversation with Emily Dickinson

We talk about waiting
while we wait - you and I -
a pack of cards ever
closer to being dealt.

Also, we talk about longing:

How it sits in your lap,
furrowed and soft
like a bruised rabbit’s head

And how some days it’s a
spoon between teeth
resting over the tongue’s
arch, losing its shine
but never its strength.

How at night it becomes
a tree bough desperate
to worship a cool
and distant light.

How it slows to a crawl
whenever you think about it
like blood in a cold climate;
a purple river paralysed.

We talk about longing
like it’s a friend who
calls us too often
always wanting
something we don’t have
to offer.

And we talk about waiting
- you and I- while we wait
for the rabbit to die.

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