Emily Dickinson

The carriage ushers forth the dead-

The Reaper sits beside-

And I am holding mushroom thread-

Along for quite a ride.

Upon the grass, a dewy slat-

Petunia's furrowed brow-

Existing paranormal pit

Insists that we all bow-

Unguarded garden of delight 

Succinctly shedding shame-

A tombstone etched and partly writ-

Inscriptions of a name-

Beneath the soil- some six feet down-

She waits without remorse- 

American in skull and bone-

She hops atop his horse.

Unmarried time- a cloth display-

The white gown full of sod-

Escaping rooted leafy ply-

Removed from under God-

Inclined to wink and sink the stars-

Unlike the Sentry's breath-

Her wordy echoes birth a stare-

We poesy rosy Death ...