She'd been coughing up blood 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