Jack the Ripper

You left me a crime scene
Down in the basements, dark, 
Etching ground, bloodlike, 
Severed arm, severed leg, 
Blood; instant death.

They call it paranoiadelusional thinking
When I saw men as mere murderers
Bloodhounds, arsonists, actors
Disguised in painted letters and poetry
Secret rooms and music halls.

Look into the eyes of dead people
Trace the fingerprints
Smell the nauseating blood
Tell me, are these mistakes made by
A mere impotent fury?


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Day 12:  Today, I challenge you to write your own index poem. You could start with found language from an actual index, or you could invent an index, somewhat in the style of this poem by Thomas Brendler. Happy writing!

P.S. I took the highlighted words from the index of Patricia Cornwell’s Jack the Ripper book. I’ve had this book since March 2016 but I haven’t got the chance to read it yet (Arghh! Work.). Did this poem make enough sense? Ha! It sounds sinister to me. 😀

Read more 2016 NaPoWriMo entries here!

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