I am replicate Dickinsonian flower,
My original passed by first species.
You are your fakes ,at a conspiracy.
You are trying to steal a death wish.
I will hide my will under a silk pillow.
I am a duplicate body in a fake soul.
I love noon’s light from original sun.
My words drop duplicates of sound.
Please close window to a fraud sun
It is not what I wrote in a testament.
My syntax is a duplicate of original.
A sentence lies in confusion of soul.
Words bloom and drop like flowers,
In the duplicate noon of a fraud sun.
(Reading Emily Dickinson’s poem “It Bloomed and Dropt”)