READING EMILY DICKINSON
Abhijeet Singh
The general consensus is that she was quiet.
Quiet how.
Swan quiet. Lake quiet. Lonely birthday quiet.
This room is empty,
she said.
We should hug and fill this room with a memory.
& nobody can tell kisses
from blinds.
She was desperate to draw them both.
After a long walk in the woods,
she said things like
“If you could think of me as a forest,
tell me,
what threatens my leaves?”
Between you and me, there are things in poetry
one must not answer.
Like this poem is quiet. Don’t tell me quiet how.