Clear and Sweet
Emily Story
Of the turbid
moon that steeps
with day and decay.
There is that in me ̶
I do not know what
but I know it is in me.
(Do I contradict myself?)
It coaxes me to dust
as to you—
life is the leaving of many deaths
(No doubt I have died before).
I hear you whispering there.
Will you speak
before I’m gone?
Talk honestly, no one else can hear you.
(No sweeter fat sticks to my bones.)