Written by Christopher Stolle
For Emily Dickinson
XII. “I dwell in Possibilities —”
You’re welcome here,
among the empty chairs
and the flowers dying,
for the path is overgrown
and the sky is a companion
for intruding thoughts.
Did you say you’re a writer?
XI. “A fairer House than Prose —”
That’s probably quite true.
My ancestors built this house
with unremitted sweat and stone.
No one’s ever written about this place,
likely because no one remembers anymore.
But I’ll caretake here until I can’t.
X. “More numerous of Windows —”
I don’t think of this house
as dark or as pregnant with solace.
Despite just one door and one window,
you can see and feel the breath of the season.
Inspiration lingers in every corner.
IX. “Superior — for Doors —”
For all the missing portals,
there are an equal number of ghosts.
I think you’ll find a confidence here
that will unwind your mind.
Maybe I’m a bit of a poet too.
VIII. “Of Chambers as the Cedars —”
I remember being lost among the cedars
when I was about your age.
I kept running, trying to outpace
whatever was chasing me.
When I came upon a temple,
I realized I was hearing myself.
VII. “Impregnable of eye —”
If you cradle your notebook
and your pencil while traversing
halfway across the field beyond,
you’ll find a bench born from
the most visually pleasing wood.
Put a straw in your jaw
to lessen the tension brewing
by being so vulnerable.
There I go again, the unknown poet.
VI. “And for an everlasting Roof —”
If it rains, take cover in the cattle shed,
but try not to smoke in there.
We’re already lost it once ourselves,
including more than thirty head.
Funny thing though: That roof
never seems able to catch fire.
That’s the original, bearings and all.
V. “The Gambrels of the Sky —"
I hear tell you have a predilection
for slants. Do you think God holds up
the heavens with two poles?
Speaking of, don’t fish in the pond.
You’ll just end up with a lonely hook.
IV. “Of Visitors — the fairest —”
You’re not the first guest we’ve had,
but I’d say you’re in the pretty category.
We’ve had some finer visitors before,
but they left everything ugly and cold.
If you don’t kill anything while you’re here,
we’ll gladly welcome you back anytime.
III. “For Occupation — This —”
I don’t think of myself as a farmer.
I rent out space for thinkers and believers.
But we all must work sometime.
Do you know how to use a plow?
I’ll have one of the boys show you how.
There I go again with all that!
II. “The spreading wide my narrow Hands —”
That’s a peculiar manner for praying,
but then again, I give my thanks to otherworldly spirits.
That reminds me, we have some cellar wine
and corn whiskey if your soul gets too tight.
You’ll have to ask me for the key,
but I’ll always oblige your need for saving.
I. “To gather Paradise —”
I don’t know if we’re waiting for that
or whether it’s waiting for us.
I’ll take my chances either way.
Well, I can tell the horses are impatient.
I do hope, though, you find some respite here.
Until dinner, I bid you a sorrowful goodbye.
About the Author
Follow Christopher on Instagram: cstolle76