Emily Dickinson
How did you realize
you were aging?
I,
first, started noticing the flowers
The ones I used to quickly walk by
with my youthful steps.
Then I learned their names one by one.
Forget-me-not
Peony
Lilac.
Out of envy for the hyacinth,
which—with great seriousness—
fulfills the profound responsibility
of being a flower
in return for all the world's pains
and the wrinkle across my forehead,
I gifted myself
new words
on my birthday,
—two years shy of forty.
Beyond the Hill
Extinguish—
extinguish the flames.
Let time remain suspended
while our meetings ignite
in the dark.
With my boundaries blurring
I turn into you, and
I cry your name to Nelly:
I am Heathcliff!
Tear down those walls.
Is this what brings humans closest—
to be understood like this?
Touch
matters so little beside it.
With every word we speak
I strip you
of your Alexander-ness.
It’s actually through your
defeats
that you take root
and grow inside me—
wearing
a glass crown
only I can see.
In our two-person kingdom,
as desolate as an abandoned monastery roof,
I surrender,
proclaiming my fatal queenship
to your absolute reign.
Strike.
Strike our secret
against the ground.
With your clothes on,
you are utterly naked before me.
Never—
never have you been heard
like this.
