“Always be a poet, even in prose.” ~ Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867), French poet
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Emily Dickinson and Elvis Presley in Heaven
(top: Elvis Presley, 1935-1977, and some fans;
bottom: Emily Dickinson, 1830-1886, at sixteen)
In America, anything is possible.
EMILY DICKINSON AND ELVIS PRESLEY IN HEAVEN
They call each other “E.” Elvis picks
wildflowers near the river and brings
them to Emily. She explains half-rhymes to him.
In heaven Emily wears her hair long, sports
Levis and western blouses with rhinestones.
Elvis is lean again, wears baggy trousers
and T-shirts, a letterman’s jacket from Tupelo High.
They take long walks and often hold hands.
She prefers they remain just friends. Forever.
Emily’s poems now contain naugahyde, Cadillacs,
electricity, jets, TV, Little Richard and Richard
Nixon. The rock-a-billy rhythm makes her smile.
Elvis likes himself with style. This afternoon
he will play guitar and sing “I Taste a Liquor
Never Brewed” to the tune of “Love Me Tender.”
Emily will clap and harmonize. Alone
in their cabins later, they’ll listen to the river
and nap. They will not think of Amherst
or Las Vegas. They know why God made them
roommates. It’s because America
was their hometown. It’s because
God is a thing without
feathers. It’s because
God wears blue suede shoes.
~ Hans Ostrom, born 1954, American poet, editor, and writer of short fiction
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