Monolith

Flamboyant they came,
Hapless they went;
Lovers, suitors, hopefuls and friends
They fled.

Her body was open,
Hers arms Christ-like
But her heart -
Och! - her heart…

How many young ships,
Eager to dock,
Breached their hulls
In her murky waters?

I knew such a man;
His heart went for a dander
And never came back.
His mind is gone.

But the murderess
Was herself
More ensanguined
Than her ghosts;

For cruel, she was not.
Nicht wirlkich.
Naïveté
Was her bane.

The stone slab
That her ribs housed
Was never engraved
By anyone. Ever.

This, one supposes,
Is her epitaph,
By one detached enough
To care.

August 2008