One Day At A Time
Friday, January 29, 2021
The Edgar Allen Poe Suite
I slept in the same room
Poe spent his honeymoon.
There were no pits
or pendulums,
no secret door
or false floor,
no accusatory
pounding heart.
But awoken I was
in the murk of old night.
Arcane laughter
echoing from the hall
the residue
of some past blight.
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