It was no Deal
yet I shopped with the Dead
laid down my money
for it was Night,
as the selfie Belles
pulled out their Phones.
Twelve hours before Noon,
it was the Frost on my Flesh
I felt the amazing mall crawl
Not a hot Fire, just my aching feet,
could not keep a Channel wallet cool
yet I wasted like Four Figures
Having seen the Orderly of The Dead
Their Burial of money reminds me of Wall Street
My former life, clean-shaven, suits fitted to my frame.
I could not breathe then nor now.
It was like Midnight,
when the Deals meant everything
yet nothing, but time stopped
stares for car spaces all around
The frosts of the Pilgrims’ first Thanksgiving
mournings for a repeal of taxes
I beat the malls’ Ground, the Chaos stopless without
a Chance to justify my despair.
This poem is for Day 5 of National Poetry Writing Month where the prompt was to take an Emily Dickinson poem and write a correction poem by taking out all of Emily’s commas and dashes and then adding additional words or erasing letters. I chose the poem, “I was not Death, for I stood up.” You can read Emily’s poem here.