You entered our lives like a gigue and departed
Just as quick, the echoes sounding
Naked rooms: where you’d meet us, bounding
To the door to greet us; broken-hearted,
I recall you, Poe, as a warm, soft weight,
In nighttime rounds across the bed;
“The happiest cat in the world,” I’d said,
A flimsy glove tossed at the foot of fate.
For too bright you burned and now, an afterimage,
You’ve astonished us with grief and rage;
So tender me this final privilege:
Inscribe my heart as words upon the page.