Glad tidings, Lady Peony.
I see you've got a new bonnet.
Admiral Tansy.
You've returned from your long journey to the underworld victorious.
Sweet Iris, in such an elegant gown.
There are my bumblebees, booked and busy.
Honestly, who needs parties when you have a garden?
This right here is the social event of the season.
Working hard or hardly working?
Death. What are you doing in my garden?
I had to come check you out. Show you my new fit.
Damn. You are all spruced up.
Yeah, I got my shit together. I was down bad last time we talked.
I'm good now though.
What happened? Did you get some rest, or--
You know workaholics don't take no vacations.
But I did think about things a little bit differently.
Just had to change my perspective. That's all.
Wow. Okay. Well, fill me in.
Well, I felt like I was kinda being hard on myself.
It's like I'm that dude that nobody ever wants to see.
People really don't like the idea of laying in the dirt
with worms coming outta their face.
No, they don't.
But then I started to think.
Without death, what is life?
It's all one process.
It's like these flowers.
They grow in soil, and that's basically waste.
Then they bloom and eventually rot and just become more dirt.
And the same thing happens over and over.
It's a cycle, baby. Bitches gotta deal with that.
Right. Well, I'm really glad you're feeling better.
This suit is fire.
Yeah. I was kinda thinking you could use a new look yourself.
What's wrong with how I look?
It's not about how you look. It's how you feel.
You gotta wear something that makes you feel like yourself.
Your clothes are supposed to make you feel like the one, not the two.
You can't be walking around all hemmed up by everybody else's expectations.
You got work to do, Ms. Dickinson.
You got all of these unreleased poems, hundreds of them, the greatest poems ever.
And you're on a bit of a deadline too.
I don't know if you're gonna be able to work fast enough dressed like that.
So, what do you--
What do you think I should wear? A suit like yours?
I can't tell you that.
You gotta ask yourself, "What's gonna work for me?
What's gonna make me go deeper than I've ever gone before?
Go farther than I ever traveled?"
You got work to do, Ms. Dickinson. You gonna need a uniform.
You know, I do feel like this dress is pretty stiff.
I'd love something more flexible.
Get what you need, Emily.
Be who you are, 'cause time's moving fast.
You got poems to write.
Demonic-- Devil's buttons.
Come on.
Vinnie!
-Yes? -I can't get this stupid dress off.
Can you come unbutton me?
Why are you getting undressed? It's the middle of the day.
Because I need to get some writing done,
and this corset is so tight I can't breathe.
Well, I hope you don't have any visitors.
Who ever comes to visit me?
There.
The way women dress these days is idiotic.
We should be able to get in and out of our clothing by ourselves.
It's, like, a baseline requirement for being an adult.
Emily Dickinson, how dare you question the shape of a lady's silhouette?
Inspiration means inhalation. Do you realize that?
To be inspired, you have to be able to breathe.
I want to be able to sit at my desk and fully inflate my lungs.
Okay, you crazy for that one.
-I just don't wanna wear a corset. -Well, we all have dreams.
I can feel the blood flowing, the blood and the poetry.
Nothing can stop you from writing, can it?
Nothing's stopped me yet.
And God knows people have tried.
They can't stop me from writing, Vinnie.
Because writing is the thing that keeps me alive.
Well, I will always be here for that.
Go.
Look at us, a happy family.
Not all happy families are alike.
All right.
Well…
Look who it is.
We weren't expecting guests.
Mother, Father…
we're here to make peace.
I was never at war with you in the first place.
Is that my grandson in there?
It is.
Well then, come inside at once.
It's time this nameless little heathen got to know his Grandma Cookie.
So, have you chosen a name yet?
-Almost. -Dear God, what is the delay?
-We'd like to give him a family name. -Well, that's right and proper.
But before we can do that, we need to know what kind of family we have.
What on earth does that mean?
Father, there's a matter I'd like to discuss with you.
A new legal case has come to my attention, and if it interests you,
perhaps we could take it on together.
I thought you started your own firm.
This case will require my full energy
but in addition, your level of expertise.
I see.
Go on.
What's the situation?
There's a young, freeborn Black woman named Angeline Palmer.
She worked as a servant here in town for the Shaw family.
We know the Shaws.
-Yes, yes. Respectable people. -Not exactly.
See, the Shaw family hatched a scheme
to sell Angeline into slavery in Georgia for $600.
Angeline's brothers saved her
by smuggling her out of the house before the Shaws left town,
but they were caught, charged with kidnapping and assault.
These men are sitting in jail right now,
and they would deeply welcome our representation.
This is messy business. The Shaws are well-connected.
I mean, why do we want to draw this kind of attention
to the Dickinson name?
That is exactly why we ought to take this case.
Let's face it, Dad. The Dickinson name isn't doing so well right now.
Between your stodgy Whiggishness and my, well…
weaknesses,
you and I haven't had the best year.
Taking this case would give a new meaning to the name "Dickinson."
It would mean that we stood for what was right.
Knit one, purl two.
What's that you're knitting?
-You'll see. Everyone will see. -See what?
Epic yarn bomb incoming.
Good morning. Beautiful day out there.
Isn't it though?
I've got a spring in me step from this nice weather.
The birds and the bees, you know? The pollen, the nectar.
Makes me feel a bit wild.
I'd love for some dashing gentleman to come whisk me off for a frolic.
Okay, Maggie's horny.
I'm looking for Emily. Is she in?
-She's upstairs, writing. -Have you got something for her?
If she's writing, I don't wanna disturb her.
She's always writing, or thinking. Emily has to think.
She's the only one of us who has that to do.
Go on up. She'll be happy to see you.
Knit one…
purl two.
My Wars are laid away in Books --
Who is it?
Betty. Come in.
I know you're busy.
It's all right. Is something wrong? You didn't get word from Henry, did you?
No, nothing from Henry. I've just about given up on that.
Betty, I'm so sorry. I wish there was something I could do.
No, listen. That's why I'm here.
Because you've been trying to help me, and I was too hard on you.
All you were trying to do was give me hope.
And there's nothing wrong with that, nothing at all.
The world could use more people trying to do that for each other.
I don't know, Austin.
I've already accepted that my legacy won't lie in politics.
My true legacy are the people right here, my family, my children.
Well, then think of your children. Angeline was 11 years old.
Think of Emily at that age.
They tried to sell her to a stranger for $600.
You really care about this, don't you?
Yes. It's time for things to change.
Seasons change, and so do societies.
And we can either be a part of the new world,
or we can crumble to dust.
We'll take the case.
Wonderful.
I was afraid you were going to announce you're moving to Nebraska.
No. No, he'll stay here in Amherst and see if he can make it a better place.
-Would you pass him back to me? -No. No.
So, there's actually something I could use your help with.
What's that?
I want to make a new dress.
I'm a little backed up with orders at the shop--
No, I don't want you to make it for me.
I wanna make it myself.
-Yourself? -Yes.
I know I'm not good at sewing,
but it's really important that I do this for myself.
A dress I can write in.
A dress I can live in.
So, I could really use your expert consultation,
because I'm not sure that a dress quite like this has ever existed before.
Well, I'd be happy to help.
I love the challenge of a new design.
Great.
Pull up a chair.
Before the girls take the baby away, will you tell us the name?
Well, yes. I suppose we can.
Sue, would you like to do the honors?
-How about Sir Poopsalot? -Accurate.
We're all ears. What do we call this little fellow?
Well, Austin and I have decided…
-What-- -No, go on. Say it.
-Who can that be? -There's somebody at the door.
Coming!
Faith and begorra,
what is this fine specimen of a man that I do see before me?
My name is Colonel Thomas Wentworth Higginson.
I'm here to see the great poet, Emily Dickinson.
-What is it? -…the name at a different time.
There's a visitor here for Emily.
Emily? Who is it?
An army man, a high-ranking officer, handsome as anything.
His name is Wintwig Hansworth Tompton Popcorn.
-Maggie, are you having a stroke? -Say it slowly, Maggie.
Hemsworth Wiggleston Tenterhooks.
What?
Colonel Thomas Wentworth Higginson.
Your daughter, Emily Dickinson, is my…
unseen correspondent.
Correspondent? You mean--
-She's been writing to you? -Yes.
Many letters and poems.
Such extraordinary poems.
Emily's words, her exquisite, necessary words,
have been a balm to me amid the anguish of war.
Somehow, I've been out there on the front lines,
yet she's the one who's managed to capture the experience.
How is it possible that this woman so far from the battlefield
seems to speak its deepest, darkest truths?
I had to come and meet her for myself,
and to see her home, of course, and to meet her family.
Tell me, when did you first realize she was a genius?
I will circle the entirety of existence in this dress.
I will journey to the edges of consciousness itself.
Okay, so you don't want a hem that drags.
Consciousness is muddy.
Yes. Yes!
And it has to be easy to clean so that I can wear it every day
as I run through all dimensions of experience.
So then it'll have to be white. White is simplest to wash.
A white dress?
Yes. Made of light, the light that exists only in spring.
Very nice. And what about construction?
Latches, hooks, buttons?
If it has too many buttons, I'll need help putting it on.
Well, what if it buttons all the way up the front?
Then you can put it on yourself.
-A dress that buttons up the front? -It's different.
It's innovative!
-Buttons all the way up the front. -Love.
Now, let's talk about shape.
This is where we really make a statement.
Bustles, petticoats, hoop?
I don't want any of that. I want a streamline.
I'll tell you what else I don't want.
-This. -No corset?
I need this dress to let me live in every possibility.
Corsets make too many things impossible.
I'll let you in on a little secret. I don't wear no corset.
Damn. Your body just looks like that?
Yes and no. I use elastic to shape the dress.
-I still look stylish… -You do.
…but the elastic lets me breathe while I'm bending and stooping in my shop.
Could you work with that?
I don't know. I'm thinking no shape. Pure shapelessness.
It's a lot of room to breathe in, Emily Dickinson, but all right.
No corset, no elastic, a uniform to work in.
That raises the question of utilities.
-Go on. -What are the tools your work requires?
For example, I have scissors, I have my thimble--
I just need a pencil, a few scraps of paper.
All right.
And you'll want to carry them with you, I assume,
for whenever inspiration strikes?
That's right.
Well, then you're definitely going to need some…
-Pockets. -…pockets. Pockets.
Emily, someone's here to see you.
-Let's sit you down… -A visitor.
A visitor? Who?
Colonel Whatsworth Bentley Tiddlywinks.
Colonel Thomas Wentworth Higginson?
That's right. That's what I said.
He's here? He's in our house?
Downstairs with your family waiting for ya.
Oh, my God.
What is he doing here? I never said I wanted to meet in real life.
Our relationship is strictly text.
Are you worried he's not gonna like the real you?
I don't know what he's gonna think. I described myself in diminutive terms.
I told him I was small like the wren,
and that my hair was the color of a chestnut burr.
I see. So, you catfished him?
I can't go downstairs. No, we have to--
We have to come up with an excuse. Tell him--
Tell him that I'm not dressed.
That Betty's in here with me taking my measurements.
He'll have to come back another day.
All right. I'll give that a go.
But before I do, I feel it's my duty to tell ya,
he's one of the finest-looking gents I ever laid eyes on.
I don't care. I am not in love with him. I only wanted his feedback on my poems.
I'm not ready to meet him yet. Not even close.
I haven't written enough. I'm only just beginning.
It'll be years before I'm ready.
So you won't be upset if I tie my bonny red hair around his neck?
Maggie, you do whatever it takes. Just get him out of here.
I can't believe he actually came.
Oh, my God, Sue. What about Sue? Is Sue gonna be mad?
How do you take your tea, Colonel?
And you must be hungry after a long journey.
Can I get you a piece of roast ham?
No. No, thank you.
I'm actually a vegetarian.
How ethical.
Well, then I will get you some vegetables. I will be just a moment.
Could you take your jacket off, Colonel?
You're getting Civil War dust everywhere.
Grandma Cookie, may I have a word?
Listen to me and listen good.
That man out there is very important.
He is a writer, a thinker, a revolutionary,
and he came all the way here because he admires Emily's poems.
Don't you understand? He could one day be responsible for Emily's legacy.
So we are going to serve him tea,
and we are going to use our best dishware.
And if he asks for coffee,
we are going to serve it with sweet butter and whole eggs
like The Frugal Housewife suggests. Do you understand me?
Susan Gilbert, you really are that bitch.
Everything all right?
Yes, we're just getting some tea for Colonel Higginson.
Where's Emily?
Just a small hiccup.
She's not coming down.
-I'm sure she'll be down soon. -Terribly rude.
I thought we'd taught her good manners, but a father's work is never done.
Not at all. I'm sure she's busy writing.
I imagine that when she's deep in her flow, time just dissolves.
Would you care for cream and sugar, Colonel?
Just say the word.
No. No, I take it plain.
I'm so honored to meet the family of the artist.
You must tell me all about Emily. What is she like?
Go ahead, no detail too small.
After all, sometimes, people with small lives do very big things.
Well…
Emily is unique.
-She's a bit of an odd duck. -She can't sew, or cook, or clean.
-But boy, can she bake. -She's, like, really into flowers.
We used to catch her talking to bumblebees.
Yes, whatever happened to that bee?
She's a very unique person when you get right down to it.
Yeah. She's for sure the crazy one of the family.
I'm not sure about that.
-The crazy one? -Yeah.
I mean, the rest of us, pretty normal.
A country at war.
Divided, the men are falling.
This is a statement about isolation and security.
I am a woman.
The men are dying!
And I am dying,
knitted into the details of my life,
as are we all.
Are you my father?
I'm your-- I'm her father.
To be trapped a Dickinson.
That's not Emily, by the way.
No, this i--
I think…
Yeah. I think this ought to work.
That's it.
A new kind of dress…
for a new kind of poetry.
Are you sure you don't want me to make it for you?
-It would only take a few weeks. -No. I want to do the work myself.
Thank you for helping me dream today, Betty.
What do I tell your family?
Tell them I can't come down.
Tell them…
I'm writing.
You know what?
Even if I can't change the world…
I'm still gonna write.
Even if no one ever cares.
Even if it makes absolutely no difference
that there was a person named Emily Dickinson who sat…
in this little room…
day after day…
and wrote things down just because she felt them.
The tea is lovely.
Hi. I'm Vinnie.
Thomas Wentworth Higginson.
But you can call me Wentworth.
Absolutely.
Hands off. He's mine.
-Well, now that Lavinia's here… -Horny.
…maybe we should do our big reveal?
Before you got here, we were about to announce the name of our baby.
You've finally picked a name.
They took long enough. This child is four months old.
Get on with it. Get on with it!
-Cool! Who's gonna say it? -Actually, the baby's going to say it.
-Right, Sue? -Yes.
He has written a letter.
Wow, he's a letter writer. He takes after his aunt.
It is-- It's addressed to you, Mr. Dickinson.
-Shall I read it? -Please do.
Make sure you do the voice.
There's a voice?
"Dear Grandfather…
I've been in this great world ever so many days
and haven't got any name yet."
Yes. Emily's the crazy one.
"My mother says you have a very nice name,
and I might ask you if I can't have one just like it.
If you are willing that such a little bit of a man
could have such a big name as yours, please tell me."
We're naming the baby Edward after you.
That is, with your permission.
Well, that is the greatest honor of my long life.
Edward. Baby Edward.
-We're going to call him Ned. -Baby Ned.
This is beautiful.
-The baby has a name. -Betty, I didn't know you were still here.
Just helping Emily with a new dress.
I'll be on my way now.
Congratulations to you.
Thank you.
And get ready,
I'm going to be ordering lots of Sunday suits for my grandson
now that he has his Christian name.
I can't wait to bring little Ned to church
and make all the other grandmothers jealous.
Which is just what religion is all about.
Bye.
That's Betty. She does all of our tailoring.
Yeah. And she's the best seamstress in Amherst.
Excuse me for just a moment.
Love the uniform.
I think he likes us.
Is Emily ever coming down?
Pardon me, Betty.
You're Betty, right?
Excuse me? Who wants to know?
Forgive me, madam.
My name is Colonel Thomas Wentworth Higginson.
I've had the honor of serving with
the first-ever regiment of Black Union soldiers,
the First South Carolina Volunteers.
Perhaps you know of it.
You fought with Henry.
No.
No, he fought on his own, he and his men.
They armed themselves and ran out to meet the enemy.
It was a brave thing to do.
There was a battle-- A skirmish, really, but a fierce one.
The Confederates were on the march to Beaufort,
and the South Carolina Volunteers went out and intercepted them-- ambushed.
Henry was among them.
Is he…
Henry survived the battle. He's--
He's very much alive.
And sweetest -- in the Gale -- is heard --
And sore must be the storm --
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm --
I didn't dare to hope.
And…
I brought something for you.
Henry's letters.
Delivered at last.
I always say, great writing finds a way to reach its audience.
Madam.
I'm terribly sorry she hasn't come down yet, Colonel.
I don't mind.
I'll wait as long as it takes.
What's an hour or two for a poet like Emily?
People might have to wait centuries to really understand her.
You know, it used to be said in the old Irish wars
that the clans had an agreement.
That no matter how bloody the war became,
no matter how many were slaughtered,
that they should always spare the poets.
"Don't kill the poets," they'd say,
because the poets had to be left to tell the story.
This was a Poet -- It is That --
Distills amazing sense
From ordinary Meanings --
And attar so immense
I have a Bird in spring
The Sun -- just touched the Morning --
The last of Summer is Delight --
I tie my Hat -- I crease my Shawl --
Autumn -- overlooked my Knitting --
There is no Frigate like a Book
In Winter in my Room
I started Early --
Took my Dog --
And visited the Sea --
Emily. Emily, come on! Emily…
The Mermaids in the Basement Came out to look at me --
Come, Emily. Come.
Wait for me.
I'm coming.