Narrative horror poem written 4-21-25. The Beatrice Cycle 3.
1. Welcome to St. Giles Hospital, Dear Beatrice, I have heard, So much about you What am I writing here? Just a few notes, I want to make sure, I don’t miss a thing 2. What’s that? Of course we’ve heard, It’s been all over the news, Terrible shame I can assure you, There will be no repetition, Of those unfortunate events, Here at St. Giles 3. I run a tight ship, You’ll soon see, A tight ship is the right ship, I always say We are a state of the art, Guaranteed and guarded, Sealed and secured, Mental health facility 4. But let’s talk about you, How are you getting along? Have you seen the gym? You’ll get plenty of exercise No roommates for you, Of course, We have to secure the safety, Of everyone here 5. We have a wonderful library, Almost 50 books, I’m sure that you will find something, Appropriate to read We like to focus on stories, That are safe, We have our patients, To think of 6. You’re so quiet, Are you sleepy? Perhaps I should, Adjust your meds, Have you been having, Any problems, When you go, To the bathroom? 7. Really, Beatrice, I must insist that you speak more, I really need to know, That you understand me We are here for you, We just want to help, And all we really have, Are your words 8. The police are involved, I’m sure you know that, A detective is coming in, To talk to you But I wanted us to speak, Before he gets here, I know him, you see, We have a bit of a history 9. You could say, That we were friends, Once upon a time, Before…well, never mind Some things are inappropriate, For young people, Even young people, Like you 10. He’s going to ask, Some difficult questions, That what he does, That’s what he always does Your eyes ask how I met him, Well, no harm if I tell you, My wife disappeared some time ago, That’s her picture right there 11. Oh, it was merely a formality, By the time Paul was involved, The trail was long cold, But still, we spoke quite a bit It’s always surprising, How one can meet a friend, In such strange, Painful circumstances 12. You seem so interested, In my little tragedy, Your eyes are afire, You’re actually speaking What? That can’t be true, You can’t have seen her, How? When? And most importantly, Where is she right now? 13. You speak nonsense, child, You can’t really know her, You can’t really know… Where is this yew tree? You sit silent for days, Now you know things you can’t know, What are these creatures you speak of? What are the Beholden?
Art: Mary Spring Walker, “The Family Doctor ; Or, Mrs. Barry And Her Bourbon”, (1869)