It’s coming ― the postponeless Creature ―
It gains the Block ― and now ― it gains the Door ―
Chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings ―
Enters ― with a “You know Me ― Sir”?
Simple Salute ― and certain Recognition ―
Bold ― were it Enemy ― Brief ― were it friend ―
Dresses each House in Crape, and Icicle ―
And carries one ― out of it ― to God ―
Emily Dickinson
Death as a Mortician
It’s coming ― the punctual fellow ―
It gains the Block ― and now ― it gains the Door ―
Chooses its lock, from all the other locks ―
Enters ― with a “You know Me ― Sir”?
Simple Salute ― and certain remembrance―
Bold ― were it Enemy ― Brief ― were it friend ―
Each House dresses in Crape, and Icicle ―
And one carries ― from it ― to God ―
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