Tragic

Editorial Note: it’s Macabre Monday on the ‘Stack, so I thought I’d bring back a poem I wrote on Wordpress once. It’s called a cento, which is a poem that you compose that is created of lines taken entirely from other works. Enjoy!

Anne, are you killed?

Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains

the hard, yellow roadbed?

She died — this was the way she died.

With a terrific, loud, animal sob, like that of a heart-stricken moose.

Though in life I used to hug her, now she's dead I draw the line.

Alas, poor ghost!

No rest, no peace. Incessant torture of remorse!

You would never come back again, never, never!

What has risen may sink, and what has sunk may rise.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

It's only imagination. Low spirits and nothing else.

For God's sake, don't let it in!

…

Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah.