Miss Louise

Miss Louise

Miss Louise

She dreamt of descending
curving staircases
ivory fan aflutter
of children in sailor suits
and organza dresses
till the dream rotted her innards
but no one knew:
innards weren’t permitted
in her time.

Shaking her graying ringlets:
‘My girl, I can’t even
go to Church you know
I unsettle the priests
so completely. Only yesterday
that handsome Fr Hans was saying,
“Miss Louise, I feel an arrow
through my heart.”
But no one will believe me
if I tell them. It’s always
Been the same. They’ll say,
“Yes Louisa, we know, professors
loved you in your youth,
judges in your prime.”’