Hemingway's House, Key West

They wanted the tour they said
to be "a positive experience."
So they don't say how he died,
 
the muzzle of the shotgun
in his mouth, his brains all over
the walls of the house in Ketchum.
 
The cats are descended from his.
They are everywhere.
Many have six toes.
 
One night he got drunk, brought home
a urinal from Sloppy Joe's
and made a water trough for them.
 
The best part is the studio.
That it isn't in the house.
That it's in the guesthouse where he'd go
 
to write The Green Hills
of Africa and A Farewell to Arms
and For Whom the Bell Tolls,
 
standing there beneath
the glass-eyed gaze of the antelope,
the eraser of the pencil in his teeth.