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I Am Alive I Guess
by
Emily Dickinson
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I am alive—I guess— The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory— And at my finger's end— The Carmine—tingles warm— And if I hold a Glass Across my Mouth—it blurs it— Physician's—proof of Breath— I am alive—because I am not in a Room— The Parlor—Commonly—it is— So Visitors may come— And lean—and view it sidewise— And add 'How cold—it grew'— And 'Was it conscious—when it stepped In Immortality? ' I am alive—because I do not own a House— Entitled to myself—precise— And fitting no one else— And marked my Girlhood's name— So Visitors may know Which Door is mine— and not mistake — And try another Key —
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