It was not Death, for I stood up
Emily Dickinson
1830 to 1886
Track 1
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The Figures I have seen
When everything that ticked — has stopped —
As if my life were shaven,
Without a Chance, or spar —
Or even a Report of Land —
And all the Dead, lie down —
And yet, it tasted, like them all,
It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
Reminded me, of mine —
To justify — Despair.
I felt Siroccos — crawl —
And ’twas like Midnight, some —
It was not death, for I stood up,
And could not breathe without a key,
Repeal the Beating Ground —
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.
Could keep a Chancel, cool —
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Set orderly, for Burial
Nor Fire — for just my marble feet
Or Grisly frosts — first Autumn morns,
And fitted to a frame,
And space stares — all around —
But most, like Chaos — Stopless — cool —
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