They Shut Me Up in Prose

They shut me up in Prose As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet Because they liked me still Still! Could themself have peeped And seen my Brain go round They might as wise have lodged a Bird For Treason in the Pound Himself has but to will And easy as a Star Look down upon Captivity And laugh No more have I Emily Dickinson Loosed from the satin-pale corset, emerging from a gilded cage, that prison of silence: sweet bourbon vanilla, pale sandalwood, mallow flower, osmanthus, and shards of frankincense.