A DEAD WOMAN

by: Vance Thompson

I

PEN swing the doors; the torches

Flicker in the windy night--

Cast strange shadows in the porches,

Down dim alleys in the night.

 

Come away now--dust and ashes--

Dust to dust and clay to clay--

Stormily the organ crashes--

Dust and ashes--come away.

 

High the wind snarls and the torches,

Flaring down the blackening night,

Toss grim shadows in the porches

And dim alleys in the night.

 

II

 

Men looked at you; saw the woman,

Just the eyes and limbs and common

Charm--odor di femina--that

Draws us all. And only saw that.

One man cared not much for seeming--

Animal red lips and dreaming,

Helpless eyes; great limbs; the value

Of the flesh you wore to pall you,

All that palpitant, sweet vesture--

Caring not for these, he pressed your

Body in the rack, to tear it

Open, till he saw the spirit,

Soul of you, its shame or merit.

 

First he took your body, woman,

Stained it, smirched it, made it common,

Scarred it with strange loves, flagitious.

Gored it raw with lust; set vicious

Things to heat the eyes; lubricious,

Unclean things to smirk and chatter

In the ears lewd, Paphian matter.

 

So he made you foul; and eager

Then to see how fared the meagre,

Warped, black, ulcered soul, he started

The great rack wheels. Snapped and parted

All the strings of the flesh raiment

He had fouled. The man for payment

Saw white wings flash as your soul went,

White, white, white, to God's enrollment.

 

III

 

They buried you to-night.

He saw the yellow torches blown alight,

Heard the organ's thunder.

He went away into the confused night,

Full of wonder.

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