Poem 1196Emily DickinsonTo make Routine a StimulusRemember it can cease--Capacity to TerminateIs a Specific Grace--Of Retrospect the ArrowThat power to repairDeparted with the TormentBecome, alas, more fair--
Oh, Em. Here you go again, starting out with a tidy little aphorism and ending up in what-the-hell craziness, all within the frame of 8 short lines. And of all the words not to capitalize!--look at power in line 6, coyly perched there in lowercase disguise. . . . You make me laugh and long to shake you till your teeth rattle. I know you invent this stuff on purpose to drive me nuts, yet I love you for it, yet I'm incredibly relieved that we merely correspond by poem and that you don't actually live in my upstairs bedroom.
1 comment:
Oh dear, you'd need a lock and perhaps a key so to contain her like Hildegarde of Bingen, the
12th century anchoress.
Post a Comment