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Poem: The Raven In Elseworld a scholar pored Over tomes of ancient lore; Seeking wisdom in their store, Seeking ways to call and beck, To call and beck a friend. 1/4

Gone without a trace or spoor, Flew the friend to alien shore. Called by some portent of yore, Called to take that lonely trek, A lonely trek he’d wend. 2/4

Untouched bowls of gut and gore, Like a tidy field of war, Stood forgotten on the floor; Stood in wait for hungry peck, A hungry peck to rend. 3/4

“What cruel fate so sudden tore, You away, my Nevermore?” Scholar cried, her soul a-sore. The scholar cried, and bent her neck. Her feathered neck she’d bend. 4/4