“You’ll find–it when you try to die–”
 –Emily Dickinson

When there are no words left to live,
I have elected hers

to haunt me till the margins give
and I am left alone.
One voice has vanished through my own
To make me like a stone,

one that the falling leaves will stay
not over, but upon.

First collected in Eve (Story Line Press, 1997, Reprinted by Carnegie
Mellon University Press Contemporary Classics Poetry Series, 2011).