CLAUDIA EMERSON
The Well: Egg and Tongue
Each day before the bell sounds the noon meal‚
they lounge on the main staircase. The stairwell
rises into a great dome‚ voices listing
upward and lingering in it with mothlike
aimlessness—while‚ at the base of the well‚ an antique
pattern repeats itself in alabaster measure‚
the endless egg and tongue soothing‚ voiceless.
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