serial killing

In Praise of the Killer

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Death by arson leaves the
Coroner a story to uncover and write
Of the housebreaker at night —
Crust bodies twisted in the hushed grill of fire
All misted with rage, agony, jealousy and lust must

The muse to a story hold, half hidden, half furtive
For the coroner; for the cohorts with propped up,
Peeping jaws that gape: all obedient behind the
‘Crime Scene — No Entry’ tape where
The sanctum remains in the name of laws.

“Are they raped?” “How raped?”
“Both mother and daughter raped — raped for real?”
Were they “entered while alive?” and one would
Wonder how they’d feel. Is there an edge, one wonders whether
When they are slayed they’d stay together?

Newspapers try odd angles and for
Diverse views, for even in the countless piles of carbon
There lies the richness in weight for news.
We savour as we re-live, in our minds, the rape, the
Final twist, the fire and the tape

And await in our human desire for flesh
The next lonely pair of women to be preyed
And for their sinews to contort, give away
And for the news to make our dulled senses refreshed.
Death by arson has a big story to tell.