found it (ED poem)

It being, of course, the poem by Alan DeNiro I couldn't locate this morning.

(You know, in reference to entomologists and flies buzzing when you die.)

I love this poem.

Emily Dickinson Dancing

She dances like a bomb
when no one is looking, bedroom

curtain drawn she
dances like a bomb with thin

flappy corsets and maverick hems and
when the door

is closed she dances
like a bomb: glycerine, skinny

tonic, legs salvoing bare
wall kicking out, and the gardener

doesn't dance like a bomb
and the mother doesn't

dance like a bomb, jigging the
bones, hair

plaited back, refrained
with ribbon, she is twenty,

she is fifty, she is still dancing
like no one would expect in the town,

she hums her hymn, the door
is closed

back, just the surprised
tabby witnessing

her dancing like a
bomb and her bare feet shake.