Emily Dickinson and I shared a meal

In the middle of her Amherst garden

We discussed

Water closets

The spring petals in the wind

And the likelihood of the said petals

Dropping into storm drains

Or directly on to our streets

The scandal that this might cause in Massachusetts

By being careless in a private but very public garden

And the idea that nuclear blankets

Might just be an alternative to smallpox wet weapons