National Poetry Month #11

He Fumbles at Your Soul
Emily Dickinson


He fumbles at your Soul
As Players at the Keys
Before they drop full Music on--
He stuns you by degrees--
Prepares your brittle Nature
For the Ethereal Blow
By fainter Hammers--further heard--
Then nearer--Then so slow
Your Breath has time to straighten--
Your Brain--to bubble Cool--
Deals--One--imperial--Thunderbolt--
That scalps your naked Soul--

When Winds take Forests in their Paws--
The Universe--is still--