FALL/WINTER 2012



Vicki Iorio

MICHAEL DICKMAN, FOR THE FIRST TIME  

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

                                     *
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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