Traveler, you who pass by and wonder why,
know I lie where all my life I feared to be.
Fast as I fled from death, he chose to run
towards me. Let a boy’s supple muscles, back,
shoulders, arms rhyme with my tomb’s cover’s
curve. Beauty’s never enough to save us,
won’t serve to see us through. Even if he seems
a god’s equal, time’s arc’s always the same.
The dead can’t love nor oblivion feel.
Fear of the end made Frankenstein try to
resurrect a corpse like mine. I’d be his monster
if I could. I’m anonymous, no lasting fame
despite my name. Read it, traveler, and smile
while your eyes ravish that beautiful boy.