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Here Lies Prose

June 11th, 2014 by Magdalena Tabor

Edgar’s shadow lingers here,purple
Pauses in the mire.
Pen and ink are bottled near
By his heart’s desire.
She wore a purple mantle of
Creeping Myrtle.
But upon her ankle, sod,
To dream a dream so fertile.

As I said, he lingers by
The crooked stones.
What is written in a sigh
Lies beneath the bones.
She wore a bow of lavender
That she might sleep.
Thus the reason pen lies nigh
And the myrtle creeps.

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2 Responses to “Here Lies Prose”

  1. Michael Tabor Says:

    Inasmuch as I’m privy to the author, I can say with 100% confidence that there is actually an old, old cemetery which is covered with weeds and just so different and unusual from any other place of rest … I’m not sure if I thought of Poe when I was there, but when thinking about the one and only Edgar allen poe and his fascination with the somewhat eerie love and romance of young love’s perishing way before her time, well.. um I guess this is the place.

  2. magdalena Says:

    Michael, those weren’t “weeds” but in fact Creeping Mertyl which lent itself to the haunting allure found there within it’s winding trails. Unlike anywhere I’ve ever seen before. If Poe lingers anywhere, surely it is there.

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