Ambiguity?

As it turns out, I rather like this poetry. I remember writing my Famous American Day report on Emily Dickinson back in third grade and really wanting to like her poetry. I didn't, though. I also really hated the costume.

Since I'm apparently talking about Emily Dickinson, I'll go ahead and make this post about "I felt a Funeral, in my Brain."

Worth noting is the seemingly random capitalization; actually, she seems to have aimed for nouns, which is oddly German of her. In any case, her perspective, arguably, could be from the casket, or "Box," in question. If one takes that stance, then the funeral is her own. Although I feel that is the most satisfactory interpretation, this site says that she felt traumatized by several deaths which were not her own, which I suppose she might have had trouble removing from her brain.

This ambiguity receives no clarification from the abrupt end. Dickinson seems to either lose her mind or die, mid-thought. The cynic in me also includes the possibility that she merely grew bored or frustrated in the writing of that particular poem and tossed her pen aside. More likely, though, she lost her mind from the mourning for the funeral in her brain--a funeral which was likely a metaphor for the mourning itself rather than a literal funeral, as funerals aren't things to be "felt [in the] brain." If in fact the funeral she imagined was her own, she was already dead, and she can't be expected to die in the writing of this poem. At the same time, though, if she's dead, can we expect her to be watching her own funeral anyway? Well... maybe.