Emily Shore Follow

Since the dogwoods bloomed
Seventeen that spring
And confined to her room

At night her heart
Pounded holes in her chest
Death, like a bird
Was building its nest

She'd laughed at the graveyard
On one sip of wine
And kept a pet duck
Till the cat crushed its spine

But, waltzing one night
In a red velvet dress
She noticed a whistling down
In her chest

Propped up on pillows
She watched the snow fall
Trying to picture
An end to it all

By spring there'd be picnics
And merry-go-rounds
But she'd be nothing
But bones in the ground

And so
On the last day of her short life
Emily called for her father's
Penknife

She sawed at her head
Till the floor pooled with hair
And braided a watch chain for father
(Mother)
To wear

Since the dogwoods bloomed
Seventeen that spring