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.