________________________________________________________________________________
Dickinson heard the breath of a hummingbird
one morning.
Henceforth covered head,
shaded eyes,
dreamed of catacomb drafts,
and no longer sought human shields.
What ballooning brick secret
was behind flit of quick winged distraction
in the bird’s precious inspiration?
Impossible knowledge.
Ever windowed Emily,
bee stung brain lady
your long lone collapse
brought frost-petalled wisdom
to college students and train hoppers
far past dreary Amherst.
If it were I and buzzing bird,
would I dare listen
or simply
cottonball ears
to preserve own pink
but never ever ever
write poems in the language
of bells?
________________________________________________________________________________
Judith Fay Pulman is a former actress who is doing her best to live life honestly, intensely, kindly, and full of bounce. She just got a Peruvian guinea pig named Harry.
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