Emma Rutledge 1876-1914

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Poem 44

From the anthology, Voices From Mt. Olive Cemetery, a work in progress.

Emma Rutledge

1876-1914

Greetings my friends, 

From this forgotten frump,

This long-dead girl who now haunts

This yawning ghost garden here.

In life, my tongue tasted many terrible lies;

All just worthless words from men,

Men I’d just as soon see dead

While I was alive still.

Just as soon see them buried deep in the dirt,

One after the other,

Here in these fragrant acres of hard silence.

One might think that a smart girl like me,

Might have learned a thing or two,

While breathing still;

Learned that the proffered promises 

Of erstwhile cads about town,

Had as much value and reliability

As a sucking sandpit!

But ladies, pray tell my friends,

You know all too well what I speak of!

We all know of their irresistible charms,

And we all know of their universal mendacity!

Even now, damn them all!

“Stay away from me! Stay away!”

But alas, there is some consolation,

Some slight soulful comfort,

Here in this yawning ghost garden;

Here beyond the spiritual membrane:

They are all sleeping now, sleeping 

Sleeping as motionless as bears sleep,

Deep, deep in the icy twilight 

Of forgotten existence.

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