By Sophia Mustone ’26 @sophiagmustone

192

LXXV
I stood up,
lie down;
Put out their tongues
on my flesh
I felt
them all;
I have seen
for burial,
Reminded me
shaven
And fitted
And could not breathe
’twas like me
When everything that ticked has stopped,
stares, all around,
Or grisly
beating
But most chaos,
is
To justify despair.

LXXVI
I SHOULD not dare to leave my friend,
Because — because if he should die
While I was gone, and I — too late —
Should reach the heart that wanted me;