by Lauren Hynde
The meaning sometimes seems a little obscure to me, but that's actually kind of good, since Dickinson herself was often obscure.
I particularly liked the break blonde/mask:
I know that hair
cannot be this blonde
mask and primitive alphabet
of a single syllable
of what a woman feels.
No one can ever accuse Lauren of being easy. I read this several times yesterday, then again today. And each reading revealed more strands within each strophe and connected to the rest of the piece. This is a rich tapestry worth reading several times over. I may just have to run out and get a book on Emily to add to my meager collection, to see how they compare.