shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Adele Evershed

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(Erasure poem)

Let's arrange some matters
Feelings beat like an enigma in a pine box—decidedly vulgar on the tip of your tongue
And so you bargain with your loveliness

Intellect you dispose of with freaks of fancy
But the truth is peculiar—capturing a heart with a few words
So you handle with care
Knowing your faulty appreciation of absence can cause you to fall and get lost
Under a full moon—the crowded wreck of you
Cuts away what remained
Making you flat and heavy—to all appearances dead

At some more appropriate time it would be a most lovely death
Instead in disgust-you personate—a pseudo-wife
Hanging a copy of "The Last Supper" in the faint hope of saving yourself
Yet it is a rare thing for you to sleep soundly at night.

From Edgar Allan Poe's short story 'The Oblong Box'