Sometimes when I sit in a dull meeting
I think of my deathbed
But strangely enough
I do so without sentiment—
I was always sub-rosa
Like tea in a glass;
Whispered, savored alone;
That’s what it is, I think
To be graphein of body
A jigger’s worth of mind …
S.K.
Emily Dickinson Takes a Meeting
Because I had not penciled in,
Death penciled in for me.
The meeting held but just ourselves
And took Eternity.
Posted by: Ken Smith | October 28, 2008 at 09:51 PM