HOMAGE TO EDWARD GOREY
(“The Peculiar Visitor”)
One night a distraction emerged from the dark.
It spoke, and the trees tossed their arms,
Though its feet left no mark;
And its fluttering sleeves
Let through the background of the leaves
While it stood in the moonlight like a work of art.
At daybreak it sat at the foot of the stairs.
It rose, and the flowers turned their heads,
Though the hallways are bare,
And everywhere one sees
Vast planks extending to the eaves,
And under them it wanders to the morning glare.
The something yearns with the revolving hours,
And the pleading intransigence spirals higher;
Its endless quest and the echoes conspire,
The compassionate writhe
Under the spell of its mindless cries.
At sunset it drifted out the door;
Walked out, and candelabra revolved;
The cries were silenced and the mystery solved:
Some hidden desire, some source of regret —
Some irritant to memory like a constant threat —
Relented, and its skeins dissolved.