for them to leave posies
and guitar player's
plastic on the alter
above her bones.
Someone said they
left whatever was in
their pockets.
I think they left a
begging need to
borrow her way
of fleshing out
words.
I clutch my camera
that saved the day
and leave nothing
of mine behind.
Amherst ~ Emily Dickinson's Grave. Glenworkshop 2012 at Mt Holyoke College
This is for Maureen Doallas. I wanted her walking with me through history.
4 comments:
How sweet of you, Kathleen. It's been such a long time since I've been in S. Hadley, where my mother was born, and Amherst. I think you'd like Salem, too.
Did you get a chance to see 'The Little White House Project' on the Homestead's grounds?
Yes. At first I REALLY didn't like them. By the end of the day, I could appreciate their simplicity and understand.....words dwell. They were fun to photograph, too.
Love your poem! I didn't get to go (maybe next year), so this gave me a sense of the mood of the day.
love the poem, Kathleen.
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