Daily Emily Dickinson

poems | about | simple

· · ·

                XLI.

I breathed enough to learn the trick,
  And now, removed from air,
I simulate the breath so well,
  That one, to be quite sure

The lungs are stirless, must descend
  Among the cunning cells,
And touch the pantomime himself.
  How cool the bellows feels!


            
Sunday, January 17, 2021
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