Emily lived
in a petite white gown
with up so floating
many poems down.

Over Emily
novelty
held small sway
the familiar
ingathered
pinked, sheared
unraveling
as it may.

There once was a poet named Emily
who scarcely could part from her family,
her perfect white pinafore
she wore as a metaphor,
her poems were rather a simile.

Alan Shefsky Home