deepundergroundpoetry.com

When the Silent Crow has Flown

I dance with him, a stranger still—
A figment of my mind
The song a hymn of meager skill—
Composed of words in rhyme

He takes the lead yet I resist—
I know this dance by heart
The words he needs cannot exist
While ink and parchment part

We dance a while
And rest a while
I struggle—What to Say?
The cat has come
And got my tongue
Perhaps another day

The dance goes on and he grows strong—
 My ardor gives him strength
Each liaison gives girth and brawn—
His wit, more class and depth

When the silent crow has flown
Then I’m no longer lonesome
Because my lad has finally grown—
And he's such a handsome poem!

Author's Note
http://columbiareviewmag.com/2019/03/writers-block-dickinson-and-the-interior/
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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