‘A Burdock – clawed my Gown –’ (229)

Emily Dickinson in her own words

by Colin Gee

My dear Austin, –

I have often told you I suspected there was a monster that lives behind the mending wall, out past the pit. Well yesterday when I was out striding – for when I walk, I stride – a Burdock clawed my Gown.

I don’t blame the Burdock. He’s a monster. A flower, a burr – a creature of instinct. The fault was all mine. I just got too close is all and the Burdock’s second nature kicked in. He had to defend his Den.

Do not worry about my health or injuries pursuant of the incident – however, it is the Gown that took the biggest hit. It is similar with most of my clothes when I go scrambling around in the woods, I can tell you, dear brother. Do you remember my hard-soled black shoes? Of course you do, all my shoes are hard-soled and black, like Death’s nose – his Ice Cream spoon. Well the Bog splashed my shoe something awful yesterday, as I went skipping through its mud. But you know, I don’t blame it a bit! It is a Bog’s purpose – Bog’s art, his Trade in this world is to be splashing Men.

Ha, ha, ha. I always enjoy the greatest of belly laughs when I compose these infrequent epistles to you. Indeed, we should write more often.

Now dad tells me that Frank Conkey touched you with his literal Whig malarkey, and that makes me madder than a hornet. Listen to the hornet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Elephant’s – calm eyes

Look further on!