The Edgar Allan Poe Doll

Gift: An Edgar Allan Poe Doll

My mean sister has a doll collection
not unusual, you think,
but you'd be wrong,
for her dolls are no Barbies
or Kens or even Raggedy Anns.

She has a row of poets and writers
from Chaucer to Shakespeare,
from Wadsworth to cummins,
from Frost to Angelou:
Christmas gifts lining her shelf.

Most of them are decent sorts,
minding their p's and q's,
they dot their i's, cross their t's,
and never leave their spots
mounted above their own works.

Save one, the incorrigible Poe;
Edgar Allan never seems to be
where he belongs, on the tome
of his works - red embossed
leather binding, gold edged pages.

I used to get the blame
until I went away to camp
and his wanderings continued,
winding up under sofas
or in the back yard.

No one could understand
why this macabre poet alone
was staked out for anguish -
unless perhaps it was fair
recompense for all he wrote.

Would some raven swoop down
and carry him off unseen
by any living creature,
to await the rebuilding
of the house of Usher?

Or is he seeking a cask
of fine Amontillado
in a walled-up dungeon
guarded by some grisly
skeleton with faded grin?

My horrible elder sister,
had you never tormented me
I would never have sewn
the catnip inside him
for your black cat to relish so.

http://www.richmond.com/entertainment/collection_b1a0ed36-df5c-11e2-b0a3-001a4bcf6878.html?mode=jqm

[Andrea's contest]