My Life had stood -- a Loaded Gun --

How do you expect us to compete-

Dear Emily-

With opening lines like that.

My life has stood; and unhinged door,

An open pickle jar,

A half smoked cigar.

You alone in your room

Speaking of loaded fire arms

And Eider Ducks

You shot me right there

In my belly button

To die a slow and inevitable death

Blood oozing on the page

Still cannot compete

Dear Emily

I am nobody compared to you

Your life in isolation

More full then any life I could conceive

On paper or otherwise

You didn’t even use a title

To warn me

Dear Emily

That your poetry like

A loaded gun

Could shoot me dead with a single line

Accidental I’m sure

But who leaves guns loaded lying around

Disguised as poems