Emily Leithauser
The Raconteuse
 

She calls herself a raconteuse,
        Our dinner party star.
For anecdotes and repartee,
        There's no one quite on par.

She gathers tales from pubs and beds
        With no concern for fact,
And crafting rumors with sang-froid,
        Reddens as we react.

She lied about her friends' divorce,
        And stole my finest joke—
And nowhere will you find a voice
        As smooth, or as baroque.

But did you hear of her affairs,
        The will that she rewrote?
One day they'll find her strangled, stories
        Dying in her throat.

 

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