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.”’