There was an increasing divide
Between people she wished to know
And those she did not.
Her clarity could not endure
Social talk instead of truth;
Piety instead of “The Soul’s Superior instants”.
Her directness would have been disconcerting
If she did not “simulate” conventionality,
And this was “stinging work”.
But a more threatening challenge,
Deeper below the surface,
Fired the volcanoes and earthquakes in her poems –
An event,
As she put it,
That “Struck – my ticking – through -“.
From A bomb in her bosom: Emily Dickinson’s secret life. By Susan.
Verbatim Poetry 