(because I owe something to Emily D.)

 

I thumbed a book on maladies
Inherited and rare
And saw that all the tragedies
Were circled in despair.

With different ink each heavy hand
Anticipated news
That hopeless hearts might not withstand
Nor honest heads refuse.

I found what I was looking for
But gave it just a glance.
Knowing my heart could not take more,
My head chose ignorance.

 

Christopher Pugliese