The Last Sonnet of Edgar Allan Poe

Utsav Kaushish

Betrayed! To Baltimore I’ve come tonight,
To tend to him, a man I’d known in school.
It’s urgent, friend, he’d begged. I rushed with fright,
Arrived on Sunday late. And then- You fool!

A voice cried out. I felt a blow, then dark.
I woke to see a needle lying near.
It’s poison, Poe, he laughed. With bare a mark.
Delirium comes first. Then death, I fear.

But why? I screamed, to no avail. He brought
Revenge for something, figured I, somehow.
A thought: Elmira’s love he must have sought
Which I possessed, two decades past, and now.

I write this note with shaking hand, less aim-
for right has failed. The world shall know his name:

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