Dickinson – I’m ceded
I heard a reading of this poem the other night and was struck with the way Emily Dickinson uses concrete images to evoke evanescent experiences, and her unexpected turns of image and thought: 508I’m ceded—I’ve stopped being Theirs—The name They dropped upon my faceWith water, in the country churchIs finished using, now,And They can put it with my Dolls,My childhood, and the string of spools,I’ve finished threading—too—Baptized, before, without the choice,But this time, consciously, of…