Genevieve Stoddard 1892-1912

Genevieve Stoddard 1892-1912 Whose footsteps do I hear Up there above my sleeping bones? Whose unghostly shadow stalks me Here in these dark parameters? Whose blood stream has inundated me Here in these forbidden avenues? Avenues of green and gray and alabaster? Is that you Trudy dear? Up there frolicking with the night rats? Dancing with the barn owls? Oh I remember him well indeed. The picture of the perfect boy Stamped inside my dead brain. Stamped like a frozen prayer at Sabbath time, Unheard and unanswered. A splendid boy for whom I pined. Roscoe my love, I was too young to taste your eyes. Those big blue orbs from the skull of Apollo himself. So, in homage to you, my love, I was the silent witness of them, The ladies of the full moon Skipping and jumping Swooning and spasming, By his huge imposing white stone, There amidst the night rats, There amongst the barn owls.