How Unsentimental

How Unsentimental

Emily Dickinson, dedicated recluse,
embraced New England spinster life
with acceptance and firm purpose.
Sequestered ribboned stacks
of fierce unpublished poems
were her trusted confidants.

She needn’t stray from Amherst,
for her world was in her garden
where she heard profundities
in birdsong and in rain.

With analysis and instinct
she stalked and shadowed
the idea of her own death,
nipping at its heels,
or baying in the distance.

The precision of her words,
used like a surgeon’s scalpel,
excised her life’s experience
to place it…exposed…raw
on sheets of linen paper.

Bonnie Marshall

Originally published 03/09/12

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