Emma Rutledge 1876-1914

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.