Emily Dickinson Crushes on Edward Snowden

I love—his pasty Skin—
His Glasses—Intellectual—
And most of all—his Lips—that blew—
A Whistle—Ineffectual—

If Amherst—were in Russia—
Then He—were here with Me—
We two Recluses—snowed in—
A wintry Privacy—

—Amit Majmudar