Maligny Street

The sun set slow that day

Its light soothing blood,

The moon come silent 

                              And sweet

That night the red ran on Maligny Street.

Birch came first,

A day like any other.

Esme, his late wife

And Mavis, his dear mother.

No one could say for sure

What really tore the mind of the man Birch Deep

When stone steamed scarlet

                              That cold winter week

That night the red ran on Maligny Street

You could say it was snow,

Snowflakes on skin like leprosy.

Or was it Birch mistress Cornelia?

A devious woman of soul and mind was she.

Not that it would've changed what happened

When the sun went down by the silent grey sky

                                                          Barren and bleak

That night the red ran on Maligny Street

As Birch came home that day

Another thing changed

Though his wife was still there

And his mother no less deranged,

The door left open

Beast flesh undercooked

It all had Birch quite mad and spooked.

As with a yowl and a roar he took

A fiery stoke from the hearth unlooked

While his wife and his mother both shook.

There was no time to run,

No, they decided to stay.

Though if by chance they did escape

Perhaps they would've been here to tell the tale today.

A scream so loud

A cry, a shriek

The mouths of both women did speak,

                          The unspeakable silence next

On that night the red ran on Maligny Street.

In your heart you may wonder,

Where the man Birch did go

After he committed the terrible deed

                                                         That was done

That night the red ran on Maligny Street?

In truth he never went anywhere

For he died on that street 

Yes the same red-snowed street

Pavement gratefully embracing his life and bleed.

To the neighbors

It was nightmare

To the authorities

                                A mystery

For how could a bloody, headless man find his way to the middle of Maligny Street.

They still don't know

Not even to this day

And perhaps, they never will.

Perhaps it should stay that way.

For an important fact to consider

Was that Birch had no wife.

No, Esme died before that dark day

                                      Almost a week

Before that night the red ran on Maligny Street.