Had we our senses

In this short life / that only merely lasts an hour / How much - how / little - is / within our / power

There are those / who are shallow / intentionally / and only / profound / by / accident

As there are / apartments in our / own minds that / we never enter / without apology / we should respect / the seals of / others

If you can't tell by some of my recent posts, I've been slowly, tentatively revisiting writers I loved when I was younger. My mother had a book of Emily Dickinson's collected poetry and every now and again while snooping around her room I'd take the book from the shelf and read a randomly chosen poem. I didn't "get" any of it at the time, but later, in high school, I'd read her poems and feel the air rushing out of my lungs. To close out what I guess is National Poetry Month in the U.S., here's a few of her envelope flap poems which have been collected in The Gorgeous Nothings.