A statue standing on a shelf
Near old books and DVDs,
Her owner’s PhD.
Emily was gold –
Admired in her glass
But never touched in such a way
That polish can’t remove.
Emily was gold –
A trophy wife
Of pure affection
And no love.
Emily was gold –
A hollow shell that needed more
Than what she had between
The Scarlet Letter, Moby Dick.
Emily was gold –
Valued, out of reach,
Mined, precious and…
Dissolved in cyanide.
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