After I read Michael Dickman's poem, Emily Dickinson to the Rescue
I saw Emily's ghost:
Hands extended
Eyes closed
A zombie in a starched linen nightgown crossing I95
*
Undone, she had floated away from Amherst
She was drifting down the south bound lane
Nobody saw her but me
*
It was twilight
The time deer like to travel
I didn't want to hit her
I didn't want to stop short
There was a semi carrying provisions behind me
Not wanting to become a dead grocery store
I drove through her
She sat beside me in the car
& yes, she needed a rest stop
& yes, she liked MacDonalds'
*
I took her to see Michael Dickman read Emily Dickinson to the Rescue
at an NYU reading
I was the oldest living person there
Michael Dickman looked like a baby to me
Emily interacted with the other ghosts
She picked out strawberries and punch from the buffet table
Nobody saw her eat but me
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Cancer, house fires and brain death
Dickman tells us this makes up the world
& yet he loves the world
There is joy in his poetry
I want to be joyous.
*
Emily tugs at my sleeve
She is homesick
It is dawn when we arrive back in Amherst
The pines shudder with joy at her homecoming
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