Tamara To Emily (For Emily Dickinson) Poem by Tamara Beryl Latham

Tamara to Emily
for Emily Dickinson

We viewed the lighted houses well below,
whose roads ran serpentine through mounding snow,
zoomed in on walls that formed each hollowed room,
then juxtaposed the gaiety and gloom.

While crumbs were sprinkled sparsely on the floor
to fatten the emaciated poor,
the great were filled, their bellies stuffed like hogs.
"I'm Nobody, " but loathe these "public frogs."

We passed the citrine disc that sweeps the night,
our horseman veering blindly to the right.
The carriage caromed off the fields of faith,
where I, the passenger, and you, the wraith,

abruptly stopped to hear a clock that chimed,
the empty midnight notes of "Auld Lang Syne."