For Emily in Franklinton

"If I read a book and it makes me so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head is taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?" -Emily Dickinson

Emily, you got me through seventh grade gym class

and conflicted college nights.

I have loved you at twelve and twenty-two,

but what would you say

to the man on the street with the cart?

You, who cackled at your Irish servants

and copied your last name until it shone?

What would you think of the wild nights

on Sullivant in this city

where everyone stops for death?

Would you drag your white dress down

our streets, past the strip club and bars?

On hectic nights I hear you in the staccato dashes

of the police helicopter.

To know someone well and love them

is always an accomplishment,

but Emily, I have learned that poetry

isn't the only thing that can take off

the top of your head.

And nobody is asking if there is any other way.