Jesse Almond died last night

In the novel that I am writing

She was my childhood friend

And we spent many happy years together

I thought I might marry her eventually

But then I became contaminated

And found that she could not exist

In my short stories

When I told her about this she moved to France

And then on to Argentina

To work on the Southern Fuegian Railway

We correspond frequently

And occasionally she sends me a lock

Of her raven hair

She is still quite angry with me

And will not return

Until she lives again in my poetry