768 He could not extinguish Her fire 5-27-18

Higginson,

instead of the seer he should have been,
was,
for her,
mere tradesmen,
buyer and seller of slate and shale
for the rooftops of New England.

So, when his moment arrived,
he did not recognize
that diamond in the dirt.

Blinded by unbending hubris,
he missed his life-time chance
to see the profusion
of sparkling verses she offered,

standing like a supplicant at Mass,
her diminutive body
shrouded in bridal white,
shaded in the shadows
of her Amherst entry way,
that wooden box,
holding her hearts fire
to ignite his world
clutched in pale hands,

a new poetry
capturing a universe
to stun his soul.

Instead of embracing her,
that brightest poet-light of his time,
he chided her for her meter,
sought to subdue the strangeness of her rhymes.

Who remembers him now?

Coffined in his shame.
Buried by her fame.
His archaic dictums
drowned
in the loud lauding
of her name!

“Dickinson!!!”

About Ken Greenman

Married and Happy. Retired and busy. Living in NC. 71 and counting. December 12, 2020 and it's 72! ... I would love some written comments, critiques, adulation or kind suggestions.... If you have the time and or inclination, please feel free! Not in fear but by faith. We will see. See you later! If you ever want to talk for real, email me and I will send you my cell number.... I am enjoying this!
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